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strang3lov3 · 2 months ago

Text

Bedridden

If you had cough syrup, you’d use that to put his ass to sleep. But you don’t, so you decide to utilize a different technique, one that always successfully incapacitates a man. 🍆💦❤️‍🔥

Joel is sick and refuses to rest, so you knock him out the best way you know how. (5.4k)

Tags - smut, lotsa sexual tension, blow jobs, pussy pronouns, teasing, fingering, unprotected piv, riding the sick old man’s cock, creampie, non-graphic descriptions of being sick. JOEL DOES THE DAD SNEEZE. coughing, fevers. That’s all. Joel is stubborn and grumpy while you take care of his old as fuck ass. Arguing with the old man, forcing the old man to bathe, forcing the old man to eat and drink, forcing a thermometer in the old man’s mouth. Joel bitching you out the whole time. Joel is kind of exactly like Dennis in IASIP when the gang gets quarantined. Fic Help - My usuals! @beefrobeefcal, your unhinged comments on the doc were the best part. and @endlessthxxghts thank you for your help <3 A/N - Heyyyyyyy. I promised this fic yesterday and then didn’t deliver. Sorry. It just needed to marinate in the doc a little longer or something. It’s been a bullshit ass few days and I’m,,,,handling it. Anyway, I’ve been sick as balls so that’s how this fic came about. Everybody wash your hands 🧼

There’s a fine point late in the year, right after summer turns to fall. You can fall asleep with the window over your bed cracked open just an inch to let the crisp, cool air blow over your face as you cocoon yourself in blankets. In the mornings you wake to that same breeze and the birds chirping, though less and less as they fly south for the upcoming winter.

Not this morning, though. This morning, you’re awoken by a chesty, hacking cough coming from outside your window. You sigh as you get out of bed and push the curtains away from the window to get a better look at what the hell is going on out there.

And it’s just your neighbor, Joel. You should have guessed it’d be him, you heard his earth shattering, deafening sneeze the other day when you waved to him as you walked by his house. Joel waved back at you with the same hand he sneezed into. Ew.

Everyone’s getting sick lately, it goes around quickly in Jackson. Always does - it starts with the kids and works its way through the community, and a good four to six weeks are filled with endless sneezing and coughing and mucus.

Joel’s coughing up his lungs as he rakes up the leaves in your yard, a job he’s seemingly assigned himself, because you sure as shit didn’t ask him to do this. He has a habit of taking on your chores and home maintenance out of his own frustration.

You pull a robe over your pajamas and slide on a pair of slippers, then leave out of the front door to greet Joel. “Good morning, Joel.”

Joel clears his throat. “S’actually noon, lazy ass. ‘Bout time ya woke up.”

“Wanna tell me what you’re doing?”

“Exactly what it looks like.” He sniffles and wipes his nose on his sleeve. Gross. “M’workin’.”

“Yeah, I see that. But you sound sick.”

Joel ignores the accusation, “Your yard looks like shit, by the way,” he says. “Wouldn’t kill ya to rake once in a while. ‘Stead of makin’ me do it.”

“You choose to do this. I don’t make you do anything,” you argue, rolling your eyes. It’s funny, though. Joel’s turning into the caricature of the old man angrily shaking his fist at kids playing on his lawn. All crotchety and pissed off about nothing. You step closer to him and wrap your hand around the handle of the rake, pulling it towards yourself. “Besides, Mother Nature put those leaves there for a reason,” you add.

“Sure, smartass. For you to ignore and for me to clean up. Now, give it,” Joel tugs the rake back. Whatever. You let him. Joel rakes more of your leaves into the pile he’s created, then doubles over in another coughing fit. You rub your palm on his back, patting him gently. He’s sweating through his flannel. “Oh, Christ. Fuck me.”

“Joel, you look awful.”

You help him stand up, “You’re a terrible flirt, darlin’,” Joel replies dryly. But he knows you’re not wrong. He saw in the mirror how pale he looked this morning, the dark circles around his eyes.

“Oh, shut up.” You press the back of your hand against Joel’s forehead, all sweaty and warm. “You’re burning up, Joel. You’re sick.”

“I am not sick,” Joel protests through another cough. “I’m fine. How ‘bout you worry ‘bout yourself ‘stead of fussin’ over me.”

“You’re hacking up a lung in my yard. I’ll worry about you all I want, thank you.”

In response, Joel grumbles something you can’t quite make out. You roll your eyes and take the rake from him, dropping it on the grass. “My rake,” Joel murmurs, annoyed and defeated. With your work clearly cut out for you, you take his hand and lead him into your house. “Aw, hell. What’re you doin’ to me.”

“Taking care of you,” you reply.

“Didn’t sign up for this bullshit,” Joel complains. “I don’t need takin’ care of.”

Oh, he’s a peach. Most men, when sick, are total babies - pathetically crying about their headaches and stomachaches to women who deal with the same symptoms on a monthly basis. It’s charming, truly. But not Joel, though. In his stubbornness, Joel refuses to ever admit when he’s sick, like he’s got something to prove. Can never let himself be taken care of, because that’s his job - to take care of others. Always has been.

Once inside, you have Joel take off his boots, then usher him to the bathroom with a hand on his back, his flannel damp with sweat. “Sit.” You reach for Joel’s shoulders and push him down, forcing him onto the lidded toilet. You crouch down at the bathtub and plug the drain with the stopper, then turn the water on - not too hot, not too cold. “Yeah, this is good. This’ll make you feel so much better.”

“Oh, c’mon. Turn off the damn water. I’m not takin’ a bath.”

“You are, too.”

“Am not.”

“Joel,” you bite. Joel parrots your name back in the same threatening tone.

“We’re breaking that fever one way or another, Joel. So you bathe yourself, or I’ll do it.”

Joel cocks an eyebrow. “Oh, will ya, now?”

You go quiet, no retort to his comment. Heat rises to your cheeks and you focus on the bathtub filling with water to avoid Joel’s taunting gaze. After a long enough silence passes, Joel changes the subject. “I don’t have any clean clothes, y’know.”

“Then I’ll grab you some from your house,” you mumble.

“Mm,” Joel grunts. “Got an answer for everything, don’tcha?”

You glare. Joel glares too. You fold your arms across your chest and raise your eyebrows at him. You are not losing this battle.

Joel sighs in defeat. “Alright, go on an’ get, then. I’ll take the fuckin’ bath if it’ll get me fifteen minutes away from you obsessin’ over me. There. Happy?”

“Happy.”

You leave Joel in the bathroom to bathe himself, closing the door behind you. Still wearing nothing but pajamas and a robe, you change quickly into a hoodie and jeans, then leave through your front door for the second time.

Joel’s house is right next to yours, so it’s not a long walk. Mentally, you’re kicking yourself for your stupid threat to bathe Joel. The way he responded to it, ‘Oh, will ya?’ and how bashful that made you, the embarrassment written all over your face in big, black, permanent marker. Your crush on the older man is obvious, and Joel, never the gentleman, will jump at any opportunity to make you squirm. Like when he catches your eyes lingering on him for a little too long, he’ll tease you for it. “S’rude to stare, y’know,” he’ll taunt, always with that stupid fucking grin on his face. Smile lines framing his cheeks, crows feet handsomely peeking at the corners of his eyes. You really need to stop setting yourself up for these things.

Once in Joel’s house, you head upstairs for his bedroom and rifle through his dresser drawers for some comfy clothes. You pick out a pair of plaid boxers, some gray sweatpants, and a navy waffle-knit henley. You bunch up his clothes and inhale, Joel’s natural smell still lingering in the clothes, even washed.

In his kitchen, you notice some vegetables sitting out on his countertops. Carrots, potatoes, onions. You grab those too, then check the fridge for leftover chicken or turkey or something. He usually has some, and usually brings it to you after he’s had his fill. “This is for you, trouble. Cause y’don’t eat enough,” he’ll gruff. “Would you like me to heat it up for ya?” And whether you say yes or no, he always does. It seems to make him happy or fulfill him somehow, so you let him take care of you like that. If only he’d let you return the favor.

Bingo. There’s chicken in old Tupperware right on the top shelf, and yesterday’s date written in Joel’s terrible handwriting from an old, dried up Sharpie. You take that too, then go back home.

You leave Joel’s food you stole on the kitchen table and stop at your linen closet for a fresh towel. You knock on the bathroom door, “Joel?”

“Yeah, darlin’.”

“I have your clothes. And a towel.”

“Good. I need those,” Joel says. “C’mon in, then.”

You open the door, averting your eyes from Joel’s naked body in the bathtub. “Relax. M’not gonna let you see somethin’ you ain’t ‘sposed to.” He’s got his hands covering his manhood, the rest of himself on display - toned biceps, veined forearms. His belly is pillowy and hairy and his legs look so long, all bare like this. His toes peeking out of the soapy bathwater. You set the towel and his clothes down on the toilet, stealing an even longer look at him when you think he doesn’t notice. “I see ya snoopin’, trouble. Wanna take a picture?”

You roll your eyes and ignore the offer, turning your attention to Joel but keeping your eyes focused on his face. His hair is slicked back, and his grays pop out against the rest of his dark hair, little ringlet curls at his neck. The asshole is criminally handsome.

“Are you feeling better?”

“I feel fine. Like I’ve felt all day,” Joel lies. His body betrays him instantly when another cough wracks through him.

“Right. Well, you smell better, at least.”

Joel rolls his eyes, “Nice one, sweetheart. Thanks. Now scram, so I can get dressed.”

You leave the bathroom, shutting the door behind yourself again. You can hear the sound of the bathtub draining and Joel getting out of the tub as you stop at the linen closet again, this time grabbing some queen sized sheets and pillowcases.

In your living room, you pull some cushions off of your sofa and pull out the built-in bed, then dress it with the sheets and an old floral quilt. You cover your own pillows in the pillowcases, then fluff them nicely and set them up for Joel, who’s leaving the bathroom now, combing his hair back.

“Stole your comb,” he says, tossing it for you to catch. He stops in the living room and looks at the pull-out bed that you made up, the corners of the sheets tucked in and everything. “The hell’s all this?”

“Exactly what it looks like,” You mock his words from earlier. “Your bed.”

“You’re bein’ ridiculous. I ain’t even sick.”

You ignore Joel and point to the bed. “Get in.”

Joel rolls his eyes but gets in the bed anyway, springs squeaking under his weight. “M’not gettin’ in this bed ‘cause I’m sick or ‘cause you’re makin’ me. Just feel like sittin’.”

“Sure, Joel,” you sigh. “How much water have you had today?”

“Plenty.”

“How much is plenty?”

“It’s enough,” he snaps impatiently. You leave him just for a second to fill a glass with some water, then bring it to him. Joel pushes the glass away, “I said I’ve had enough.”

“I’ll decide what’s enough, now here–” you put the glass into his hand, “Drink.”

Joel drinks the entirety of the glass, glaring at you the entire time. Good god, if looks could fucking kill. The cool water soothes his scratchy, sore throat, but Joel won’t tell you that. “You’re a tyrant, sweetheart,” he tells you, voice raspy and low. What he doesn’t tell you, however, is that if the shoe were on the other foot and you were the sick one right now, he'd be just as overbearing over your health. Probably worse.

You pout mockingly at Joel as you take his glass. “Stay here. Don’t get up.”

You get up from the bed to go into the kitchen and begin preparing a soup for Joel to soothe his aching throat. You start by dicing onions, then chopping some carrots. You toss them in a large pot with some butter, letting the vegetables soften. You’ve even got some leftover bread you made yesterday, so you turn on your oven to heat it up. You can hear Joel getting restless, tossing and turning in the less than comfortable bed. Probably should have turned on a movie for him, left him a book or something to occupy his restless mind. “You okay?”

“M’fine. Mind your business.”

You open Joel’s Tupperware and chop up his chicken into little bits. When you look up, Joel’s out of bed. You scoff. He’s forcing open your window, grunting as it squeaks. “Joel, what did I tell you? Get your ass back in that bed.”

“Relax, would ya? M’tryin’ to get some air in here.” Joel successfully forces the window open, and cool air blows into your tediously warmed home. “House is a fuckin’ oven.”

“Yeah, well, that’s probably your fever talking, dumbass. Put my window down.”

“I really outta fix this window for ya. Ain’t good to leave it like this. I’ll get my tools an’ I–”

You march across the kitchen and into the living room, knife in hand and using it to point to the bed. “Joel.”

“You scare me,” Joel mumbles, raising his arms in surrender. He closes the sticky window for you, then you march him back to the pullout. Before Joel lays down, he glances in the kitchen at what you’ve been cooking. He heard the sounds of you chopping, but with his nose all congested he can’t smell enough to hazard a guess as to what you’ve been making. Joel narrows his eyes at the stolen Tupperware on your table, the carrots and onion peels to the side, and recognizes it all as his. “Is that my…?”

“Just lay down, Joel.”

“Did you take that from my fridge?”

“I did.”

You’re completely shameless about this, there’s not even a half-assed attempt at lying your way out, and Joel’s beside himself. “You stole from me, you little–” You urge Joel into bed, fluffing the pillows behind him as you ignore his tantrum. “You are unbelievable. I could throttle you, you know that?”

“Go ahead, Joel,” you challenge. A slight breeze could knock this sick old man down to his knees. You tuck Joel into the sheets, then adjust the quilt over him again. And this time before leaving him, you grab an old book of word searches in a basket under an end table. “Here.” You toss it to him along with a dull pencil. That should keep him busy.

Back in the kitchen, you’re still working on Joel’s soup. It’s bubbling away on the stove, and you’ve just finished making egg noodles to make the dish a little heartier. Something to stick to his ribs. It hits you then, that you don’t hear sniffling or coughing. Joel’s gone quiet, suspiciously so.

And lo and be-fucking-hold, Joel’s up again. This time, with tools. Tools that you don’t have, tools that he must have snuck out and grabbed from his home at some point. “Joel!”

“There,” Joel says, moving your window up and down seamlessly. “Window’s fixed.”

“How many times do I have to say it?”

“How about you try a ‘thank you’, huh?” Joel shoots back.

You shoo him back to bed. You slice a bit of warm bread, then ladle some soup into a bowl and bring it to him with a spoon. “Eat,” you tell him.

Joel eats a spoonful, and it’s written all over his face how much he enjoys it, the warm broth relieving his sore throat. “So what’d you poison it with, huh?”

“Oh, you’re such a dick.”

Joel smiles, only teasing. “M’sorry. S’just that you shouldn’t be doin’ all this for me, s’all.” Joel squeezes your knee comfortingly. “Thank you. I mean it, darlin’.” He’ll let you feed him, but no more than that. You’re too sweet for your own good. “S’good soup.”

“I’m glad you like it, you asshole.” You smile too, and push some of Joel’s hair out of his face. He finishes his bowl of soup, even has a second one. You take his bowl away and wash it at the sink.

“Should let me do that,” Joel says, following you into the kitchen. “Ain’t that how it works? One cooks, the other cleans.” Joel bumps you to the side and takes the soapy dish from your hands.

“Maybe another time,” you offer, attempting to take back the bowl. “Don’t want your germs on my dinnerware.” But Joel holds on tight, so you let him wash the dish. Since he wants to die on this hill. So you dry your hands, then feel his forehead once again. You frown, displeased that the bath didn’t work at curbing his fever at all. He’s still burning up. “I’ll be right back.”

You go to your bathroom and open the cabinet vanity, where you have an old Walgreens thermometer, the paint all smudged off. You wash it with soap and water in the sink, then return to Joel. Amazingly, you find him in the bed doing his word search puzzle, and you didn’t even have to tell him to go lay down this time.

The bed creaks under you as you sit down next to him. You put his book down, “Open,” you tell him, thermometer in hand.

“Oh, c’mon now,” Joel complains. “Get that thermometer outta my face.”

You shake your head no, and tug on Joel's chin so that he opens his mouth. You place the thermometer under his tongue and he closes his lips around it, staring daggers at you the entire time thermometer reads his temperature.

He’s so handsome. Big, sparkling brown eyes underneath brows knit together in irritation. Pouting lips. Age looks good on him, perfectly both softens and enhances his rougher edges.

The thermometer beeps. You read the temperature, 102.3°F. Why Joel’s even upright with a fever like this is a mystery, but that’s men for you. Fucking idiots. “That’s a hell of a fever you’re running, Joel.”

“You’re full’a shit. Gimme that.” Joel sniffles and snatches the thermometer from you to read the number for himself. He shrugs. “S’old. Probably faulty. Can’t trust it.” Joel covers his mouth with his elbow and coughs loudly.

“You’re old and faulty too, Joel. Look at you.” You offer him a handkerchief to wipe his nose. “You’re falling apart.”

Joel scowls at you before blowing his nose. You leave him once more, this time to bring him a cool, damp rag. You press it against his forehead, and Joel closes his eyes. “Does that feel nice?”

“No. Quit that.”

But Joel’s body betrays him. He’s sighing in relief, and his tensed muscles loosen. His breathing, while still shallow, has slowed as much as it can, soft belly rising and falling with steady breaths.

“Are you falling asleep?”

“No, I’m not. M’not tired,” Joel argues. He tries adjusting the now lukewarm rag, warmed by his body heat.

“You should sleep.”

“Nah.”

You take the damp rag off of Joel’s forehead and flip it so that the cooler side soothes his hot, feverish skin. “You know, Joel, I think this is why god made women. To take care of stupid, sick men like you.”

“Hm. Could be so. But I think he sent you to me as a punishment of sorts.”

“Is that so? A punishment?”

“S’right. An’ some day, you’ll fool some poor man into marryin’ you and he’ll have to put up with this same shit the rest of his life. I don’t envy that sorry bastard one bit.”

“Oh, I know,” you coo, wiping away a droplet of water that rolls down his temple. “You tell me all about it, Joel. Tell me how terrible it is.”

“Oh, I intend to.” Joel continues his tirade, bitching and moaning about how you're doing too much, that none of this is necessary. ‘Quit fussin’ over me’ and so on.

You know that after this, Joel will try to leave you, go home and fiddle with things in his home that aren’t broken - or worse yet, he’ll tinker with the things in yours that he deems in need of fixing. Squeaky door, creaky floor panels. You listen to his slight wheezing, his sniffling, his voice all raspy and broken. He really does need to rest, the poor man.

If you had cough syrup, you’d use that to put his ass to sleep. But you don’t, so you decide to utilize a different technique, one that always successfully incapacitates a man.

You remove the damp rag from Joel’s head and set it on the coffee table behind you. Joel’s eyes are shut as he takes shallow breaths, and you trace lazy patterns on his stomach, inching your way down, down, until you’re rubbing his warm bulge, feeling him stiffen beneath your touch. “Goddamnit, what the hell are you doin’ t’me, now?” Joel groans. He takes your wrist and squeezes it gently in his grip.

“Nothing, Joel,” you answer innocently.

“Bullshit, it’s - you’re - oh, fuck.” Joel bucks into your palm. You slide your hand beneath his sweatpants to touch his bare cock, amused at how Joel decided against wearing boxers today. “You’re killin’ me, sweetheart. You gotta, you can’t–”

“Shhh,” you hush him. You drag your nails through his patch of coarse hair, playing with those long and wiry hairs. You palm his cock again, half hard and growing harder by the second. Before this goes further, you tug his sweatpants down his thighs. “Lift up for me, Joel.”

Joel lifts his hips and you tug his sweats down the rest of the way, then continue touching him. You spit into your hand and pump him from top to bottom, taking special care to gently massage his balls when you reach the base of his cock. “Ohh, darlin’. Oh lord.”

Joel’s stiffened to full length now. You kiss the tip of his cock, all the way down his shaft before licking your way back up, one long, fat stripe. You swirl your tongue around the head and dip your head, teasing him with it as you bob your head up and down, taking more and more of him down your throat with each pass.

Joel moans, his sick voice breaking a little. He keeps a heavy hand on your bobbing hand and wonders what the hell he did to deserve this from you. He should have stopped fighting his sickness long ago if this is what was in the cards for him.

Realization dawns on Joel. It all makes sense, why you’re sucking him off at this particular moment. You’re trying to put him to bed, you goddamn deviant. “You’re trouble,” he accuses. “I know exactly what you’re doin’.”

“Hmm?” You turn your head to Joel, his cock still in your mouth. You bounce it against your inner cheek, and Joel groans at the lewd image of his cockhead bulging in your mouth.

“Yeah,” Joel says. “And let me - oh, fuck-” You drop your head low, taking all of him into your mouth. So deep that your nose is buried in his pubic hair. “Let me tell ya, darlin’, what you’re doin - it ain’t gonna work on me.”

You pull off of his cock with a pop. “It won’t?”

Joel shakes his head. “Mm-mm. You’re wastin’ your time.”

“Oh. Well, I should stop, then.”

You begin to pull off of his cock, but Joel forces you back down. “Nah, you don’t have t - you gotta give it your best shot, right?”

You smile with Joel’s cock in your mouth. What a fucking guy. You pull off of him only momentarily, garnering a protesting groan spilling from his lips. You take off your shirt and unbutton your pants. “Lemme help you with that, c’mere, darlin’,” Joel says, pulling your pants and panties down your legs. He unclasps your bra next, then sheds his own clothing.

You take him right back into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks as you suck his length. This time, though, you play with your pussy. As you move up and down Joel’s shaft, you slip through your folds, dipping down to your wet hole to gather your arousal on your fingertips. You circle your clit a couple of times, then push your fingers in and out of your pussy.

“You fuckin’ yourself on your fingers, sweetheart?”

“Mm-hm,” you hum, mouth stuffed full of Joel’s cock.

Joel pulls your hand away and replaces your fingers with his own, much thicker and longer ones. “Let me,” he says. “S’my job. Shouldn’t have t’do that to yourself, ‘less you wanna. Or if I say so.”

Joel spreads your thighs wider. He moves his pointer and middle fingers up and down, exploring your slick, velvety pussy. He sucks those two fingers and then his thumb and rubs tight circles around the sensitive nub, all swollen and wet with your arousal. You moan at the action, the vibration of your voice traveling right down his shaft and to his balls. He bucks himself into your mouth.

Joel inserts his middle and ring fingers into your pussy, pumping in and out slowly before curling them upward, stroking right where you need him to. “Got a nice fuckin’ pussy,” he purrs with his hoarse, gravelly voice. You pulse around his fingers, and Joel admires the way your tight hole hugs him as he moves in and out of you. “She’s makin’ such a mess, drippin’ all over me.”

You twist your fist up and down Joel’s shaft as you suck him, working him closer and closer to the edge. Joel’s content with this, the prospect of coming down your throat and fucking you with his fingers. But you have a different idea, and when his balls are tightening and his shaft is twitching, his breathing quickening, you pull off of him.

Joel groans in frustration, but his anger is quickly eased when you straddle his hips. You reach between your legs for his cock and stroke it, dragging the tip through your folds, up and down, up and down, dipping it in and out of yourself to tease him. “You’re fightin’ dirty.”

Joel’s exercised enough self control today and doesn’t let you tease him for long. He puts both of his large, weathered, and masculine hands on your waist and pulls you right down on his cock, the initial penetration causing a stretch so intense you see stars for a second. “Oh god, Joel,” you moan, clutching his shoulders.

“I know, I know,” Joel whispers, rubbing your back. “You good, sweetheart? You need a minute?”

“Just - just a second.”

“Take your time. Know it’s a lot, you’ll get used to it.”

Joel gives you a second, then inches you up and down on his cock to get you adjusted to the sensation of being so full of him. Soon enough, the ache dissipates and is replaced with pleasure, nothing but pure pleasure. You rest against his hot body, rocking your hips to grind against his pubic bone.

You know that by the way he bucked his hips into your mouth, how he pulled you down on his cock, how even now he moves you, that he’ll tire himself out. Your plan was simply to make him come to knock him out, but this - this works too. Exhaust his body, get yourself off in the process. Killing two birds with one stone.

Joel fucks you harder now, hands on your ass to move you up and down on his cock. He bends his legs at the knee for more leverage, bouncing you on his lap. “That’s it, sweetheart,” he grunts. He moves you so that your chest is right above his face, and one at a time, sucks your nipples into his mouth, teeth lightly grazing them.

You hold onto Joel’s broad shoulders to steady yourself, looking down at him as he fucks himself into you. He’s so handsome, cheeks and chest all flushed red, a sheen of sweat glittering at his hairline, his graying curls damp. Joel’s eyebrows are knit together as he fucks you, tracing your curves with his gaze. He pulls you against his chest as he ruts against you, his scruff scratching your skin so deliciously. “Takin’ me so good. Look so pretty on my cock like this.”

You move at his will. Joel’s underneath you, rocking himself in and out of your dripping, tight pussy. His thrusts are getting sloppy, hips stuttering in a non-rhythm as he pushes himself inside you over and over. He must be getting close now.

“Up, sweetheart. Lean back f’me.”

You peel yourself off of Joel’s middle, all slick with his sweat. Joel spits into his hand and presses the calloused pads of his fingertips against your clit. You roll your hips against him, savoring that much-needed friction against your clit.

“Like that, darlin’. Jus’ like that. Fuck yourself on my cock,” Joel says, rubbing your sensitive bud with tight circles. “Gonna watch you come all over me.”

“Yeah,” you moan, “Wanna come for you.”

Joel loves you like this. Your face contorted in pleasure, mouth agape, body quivering and twitching on top of him. He steadily massages your wet, swollen clit and wears a crooked smile when he feels your cunt start to pulse around him. And you think you’re pulling one over on him, but look at you, all fucked out and delirious. You’ll probably crash after this, and Joel will go right back to fixing up your house. There’s a door hinge that’s been squeaking…

“Oh my - Joel, I’m - I’m gonna -”

“Know you are, sweetheart. Let me have it,” he groans, voice all broken and hoarse. “Come all over my cock, darlin’. Let go f’me.”

That hot, sticky pleasure in your gut begins to intensify rapidly. You go quiet just before it happens, then let out a long, whimpering moan when your orgasm takes over your body. You shudder and jerk as Joel fucks you through your release, and once you’ve ridden it out, Joel pulls you tight against his chest.

While you come down from your high, Joel frantically fucks you, slamming his hips against yours as he chases his own climax, balls tightening and his belly filling with warmth. “Oh, goddamn. Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Joel pants as he comes, painting your insides with his hot seed, the warmth of his release and the pulsing of his cock so satisfying.

Coming down from his orgasm, a wave of exhaustion hits Joel. He finds himself unable to move, unable to open his heavy eyelids. He might’ve been wrong, because napping away the rest of the afternoon doesn’t sound quite so bad, now.

You pull your body off of Joel’s and he lets out a sighing grunt when his softening cock slides out of your body, the mess he created with you spilling all over his lap. You grab that washrag you held against his forehead and clean him up and then yourself, then get up to dispose of it.

Joel grabs you by the arm, his grip weak. “Don’t you go anywhere, trouble,” he grumbles.

“But I’ve gotta take care of this, Joel,” you protest.

“Deal with it later. Just -” Joel yawns and pulls you down and holds you tight against his chest, as tight as he can, anyway. “Jus’ stay with me a minute.”

Joel’s eyes are still shut, and his breathing becomes slow and rhythmic. It’s laughable how quickly sleep is taking over his sick, exhausted body, having used what little life he had in himself to fuck you stupid. Like that last burst of energy from a dying star. “I thought you weren’t tired,” you tease.

Joel sniffles. “M’not.”

“Mhm. Sure.”

“Just checkin’ my eyelids for holes.”

You push some curls out of Joel’s face and hold your palm against his cheek, still hot with his fever. He’s so peaceful looking like this, plump lips pouting as he breathes through his mouth. You bring your face close to his and close the gap by pressing a little kiss against his lips.

“What’re you kissin’ me for, hm?”

“I want to,” you reply, kissing him again.

“Gonna get yourself sick,” Joel murmurs groggily, eyes still closed. “Which means in a couple days, I get to do all this right back to you. S'payback, darlin’.”

You chuckle. And in just a few short seconds, Joel’s snoring lightly, dead to the world.

If you enjoyed, please please please reblog with thoughts or comment or hop in my inbox! Your kind words go farther than you know in keeping me motivated to write 💕

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x reader smut #joel miller/reader #joel miller x you #joel miller one shot #joel miller fic #grumpy joel #joel miller tlou #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #Joel miller #pedro pascal characters #tlou #tlou smut #the last of us #Joel tlou #tlou Joel

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hurlingdown · 2 days ago

Text

THE BAAAAD TOUCH!

synopsis. there’s a very thin line between the way animals fuck on the discovery channel and the way you fuck them. featuring shameless, rough sex with the arcane men, and a third secret option at the end. jayce, vander, silco, viktor.

tags. top! reader, sub! jayce, vander, silco, viktor. reader has a cock. rough anal sex, creampie(s), exhibitionism, infidelity, cumslut! jayce, doggy, riding, size difference, huge cock, belly bulge, size queen! viktor, sweat kink, strength kink, breeding kink, implied marathon sex, dirty talk, degradation, praise kink, excessive amounts of manhandling, age difference, established relationships. cock-hungrified men. (lmao)

a/n. inspired by this song from bloodhound gang.

“does she know?” you pant into his ear, grip strong and sweaty on his hips, and jayce feels dirty, the way he’s being mounted like a bitch. “does she know about the way i fuck you? the sounds you make when i fill your pretty hole up?”

he shudders, shaking his head, nails raking down your biceps as he tries to lift his head, to be less vulnerable in the way you’re taking him, but to no avail. he feels the hot burn of your palm at the back of his neck, and he finds himself back with his cheek pressed against the sheets, back arching with the violence of forcing his body to accommodate both pleasure and pain plowing away at his dignity.

“fuck!” he gasps, “let’s not, nnngh! talk about this. not, not right now.” it’s not the first time you’ve brought mel up in a conversation, but hardly ever more than an offhand comment, something to tease, something for fun. this… this was unknown territory.

“why? you don’t like it?” there’s a strange displacement in your voice, a touch whiny, as though you were pouting at his denial. jayce thinks he’s going insane, because as manipulative as you were, there was no way he could say no to you. not with that look on your face. the one he can’t see but knows it’s there.

“doesn’t matter,” jayce whispers. “it’s not ri- right.”

you want to laugh. it’s not right? so it’s all right and just if he sneaks into your bed almost every other night for you to get him off simply because said girlfriend never could—nights of sweat and sinful lovemaking that end with him sneaking out of your room with a limp—but it’s not okay if you want to talk about it? how was that fair?

“you don’t like her anyway, do you?” you mutter. “you should just get rid of her and be with me.” you tighten your hold on him. you want it to bruise. you want him to go home with your marks on his body. you want mel to ask about them and jayce squirming as he tries to think of a stupid excuse to fool her again. faulty gym equipment. sparring session gone wrong. you know all of his excuses. it’s funny, the way he tries to patch things up. “this is cruel… to the both of us. don’t you wanna get this over with?”

“it’s- unh, complicated!” jayce moans, but there’s nothing complicated about it, he just doesn’t want to talk. doesn’t want to feel the shame and guilt making his guts tangle and heart pound—the way you fit into him so perfectly, so innately, like you’ve always belonged inside him, a missing piece to his puzzle.

he bites back a whine as the thick head of your cock pushes against his swollen prostate, and he’s not sure if he can even feel his legs at this point. it’s humiliating, the way you’re cooing nasty words into his ear, handprints branding his hips as you tug him up only to slam downwards against him, pushing him further down into the mattress with every heavy thrust.

“why? what’s keeping you then? hah. don’t tell me. does she fuck you like this too?” you snarl, sucking hot purple bruises down the column of his neck, salt and iron underneath your tongue making you hungry, and he keens. “so desperate for cock you’d let your girlfriend fuck you, jayce? well? does she fuck you as good as i do?”

“noo,” jayce slurs, shaking his head, “nothing’s as good. you’re the best. love it. love you.”

“really?” you bark out a laugh, and he nods dumbly, like his body’s conditioned to respond to your every whim, wanting to please, to serve. “well, i don’t see it at all. only thing you could ever be in love with is my cock.”

“ah- ah, yeah, that too,” he whines, “love you more.”

“liar,” you growl, and he sobs out at the way your length drags across his walls, thick and girthy, missing his prostate on purpose. it’s a punishment, jayce knows. he’s sorry. he feels so guilty. “pretty slutty liar. you’ll do anything to get stuffed, won’t you? even if it means cheating on your little girlfriend. you’ll even enjoy it, the moment you break her heart.”

jayce shakes his head, tears blurring his vision. he can’t even say anything at this point, with the way you’re forcing him to take, fucking the words out of him. he can’t help being addicted to this. it’s too good. mel would understand, wouldn’t she? she would, if only she could have a taste of it. it’s not his fault. not really.

“you probably think she’ll never know. you probably think she’ll never find out.” you’re talking again, but the sounds buzz by, intelligible. jayce swallows, letting your accusation wash over him. he has been careful, hasn’t he. surely she won’t know. surely she can’t know. “the way you start crying when you’re about to cum. you think she’ll never know about that, right?”

he doesn’t know what you mean, but it’s so hard to think. there’s wetness on his cheeks and the low flame in his belly has blazed into a forest fire. he wants to cum. he needs it. he needs it hard and rough, bruises on his waist and hips and love bites on his collarbones, hard, heavy thrusts that make him feel dizzy and high and stupid, drowning him in the throes of pleasure that only you can give to him.

“please,” jayce begs, tears streaming down his face. “i want, ngh… ah, want your cum in me.”

and before he knows it, there’s the rush of hot cum flooding his hole, the sweaty press of your chest against his back, your hips trembling and bucking against his, and it’s so good it makes him see stars. but you don’t stop. it’s messy and filthy, and pure bliss when he feels you snake a hand into his hair and wrench his head up, rough and careless just the way he likes it.

his eyes roll back before his cock starts helplessly spurting at the sight of mel standing in the doorway, watching him being bred like a whore.

VANDER

. . . vander thinks he maybe maybe made a mistake, telling you to be rough with him. because this is exactly the kind of rough he likes.

“oh, fuck, sweetness,” he moans, arousal bleeding into his guttural voice as he arches his back and cants his hips backwards to receive your thrusts, taking you deeper inside, his ass bouncing every time you meet his hips with a wet, nasty ‘pap’. “t-thaat’s it, kid. right there, fuck, harder…”

he’s clutching his pillow tightly, waves of pleasure shackling him to the bed as you’re pounding away at his hole from behind. you’ve snaked a hand into his hair to wrench his head up roughly, and a low whine pushes its way past his lips, punctuated by a sharp, deadly thrust aimed at his prostate. he’s pretty sure his own cock’s rubbed raw against the sheets, spurting so much pre there’s a sticky, slippery pool underneath him—easing the steamy push and glide.

there are stars bursting at the corners of his eyes, threatening to consume his vision, and he can vaguely feel his toes curl and thighs spasm at every brush of your cock against his bundle of nerves. there’s sweat dripping down his face, a salty tang on his tongue, and he wipes his forehead with the back of his hand, hearing nothing but his own heavy pants and groans, attuned to the rhythm of your thrusts. it’s too good. almost makes him feel young again. he’s halfway through his forties, and yet you’re fucking him like he’s twenty.

vander can feel your hands all over him, pressing heavy bruises onto the tender fat of his waist and hips, bodily dragging him back onto your cock every time you ram forward, making sure to put your entire weight behind it. the mattress is letting out horrible creaking sounds, the headboard of the bed slamming into the wall in perfect tempo, and the both of you are going to regret this later, but fuck, he doesn’t care.

it’s addicting. it’s violent. vander shouldn’t be enjoying this, but he is.

“fuck, love, y’er gonna make me cum already,” he chokes out, and it’s more of a drunken slur, really — there’s something about the way you’re treating him that makes him dizzy and weak at the knees. his fists are clenched, grasping at the bedsheets every time he feels like snaking a hand between his legs and jerking off to your thrusts. he wants to enjoy it, savour it—the way you’re taking him, pressing him into the mattress like you’re trying to break the bed before you break him, gaze hungry enough to swallow him up in your lust.

“go ahead and cum, vander,” you drawl, grabbing a handful of his ass before sharply spanking him across, the sting rewarding you with a full-body shiver. “i want you to cum like it’s your last night on earth.”

who the absolute fuck does this kid think he is, vander thinks, and he quickly buries his face back into the pillow because he knows he’s going to get loud. you’re insane. insanely bad at dirty talk, but your hunger makes up for it. he’s never liked dirty talking that much, but fuck, if you weren’t something different. cum like it’s his last night on earth? he really underestimated how greedy you were.

“cocky,” he wheezes instead, once he’s caught his breath, “y’er gonna, haah, hafta fuck me harder for that to happen.” it’s yet another bad decision, and he’s digging his own grave, he knows it. as if you aren’t already fucking him within an inch of his life—the bulbous shape of your cockhead digging into his prostate with such immaculate precision, pressing the shape of your handprints into his skin as you fuck him with your eyes, your hands and your cock.

hungry. intense. unforgettable. vander doesn’t think he’ll ever get enough of it.

before he can even breathe, you’ve hooked one arm under his thigh, tossing him over onto his back like you’re flipping a fucking pancake, and vander’s not a delicate man by all means. without wasting a second, you’re pushing inside him again, groaning shamelessly as his wet, warm cave engulfs you perfectly. vander makes a desperate noise, eyes squeezing shut—there’s no pillow to muffle his cries or hide his expressions from you this time, but he’s far too close to be embarrassed.

the new position’s got you so deep inside him, and it’s getting harder to breathe, almost as though he could feel you all the way to his throat. it’s uncomfortable and very inconsiderate of his aching back, but the mind-numbing pleasure hammering away at his sweet spot makes up for it.

“s-so fuckin’ good, kid,” he pants out, arching his back with a moan as you reach down to grope at his tits, the muscles plump and soft with tender age, hole clenching around you tightly every time you tug at his perky nipples. his cock’s all leaky, drooling over his stomach and making a mess, and he’s so aroused it’s almost endearing. “fuck me… god, fuck me.”

he’s going to cum hands-free, vander thinks, and shit, you’re going to be so smug about this after you’re done with having your way with him. vander sneaks a glance at you—eyelids fluttering, making little grunts of pleasure every time you bully your way into his tight wet warmth. it embarrassingly makes the back of his neck burn, makes him feel all hot and sexy and wanted.

“yeah? best cock you’ve ever taken, vander?” you purr, and his breath stutters, seizing up with a yell and then he’s fucking cumming with you balls-deep inside him. guess you’ll take that as a yes.

SILCO

silco doesn’t know how long he’s been bent over in that same fucking position, but he doesn’t plan on making you stop anytime soon.

“darling, not so rough. . .” he gasps out, nails raking down the expensive wood of his office desk while you plow away at him from behind, his hole sopping wet but tight, as though you haven’t cum two times in him already. he can feel his knees knocking into the hard front of the desk with every brutal thrust, the weeping tip of his erection grazing the cool mahogany, the pleasure inside him making his lower belly burn with a flame he hasn’t felt in a long time.

“why?” you grin, draping yourself over his half-clothed stature, his pants yanked down to his ankles as he’s bent over to take. you shuffle forward, making sure his ass is pressed snugly against your crotch before giving an experimental roll of your hips, always reaching deeper, for more. “worried that they’ll hear?”

silco presses his lips together in a thin line, tilting his face away from yours, and if you didn’t know any better, you would have thought he were sulking. you laughed. it was just too easy to piss him off sometimes.

“i’m just playing around, baby. your office is soundproofed, no?” you straightened yourself, running a hand over the smooth, sensitive expanse of his back before returning to your firm grip on his bruised hips. he gave a shuddering sigh, trying to relax as you started to rock into him again with strong, steady thrusts.

“it doesn’t matter,” he rasps, “we’re, hah, being too loud… sweetheart. s-sevika is right outside.”

“don’t care,” you mutter. “i’m pent up. ‘least you can do is let me fuck you stupid. you’ll let me, right?”

silco makes a noise at the back of his throat, half from displeasure, the other half from the sharp curl of arousal in his lower abdomen, making his cock twitch and leak. fuck if it didn’t turn him on when you talked to him like this. he settles for burying his face into his arms, preparing himself for whatever you were going to put him through.

“be gentle,” he whispers, letting out a shuddering sigh. “i’m not so young anymore.”

you could feel a grin pulling at the corners of your lips. yeah. sure, you were going to be gentle with him. with him looking like that.

“hngh, r-right there…” silco mewls out, knees buckling repeatedly as he tries not to think about how loud he’s being. he supposes he could gag himself with something, your fingers, maybe, get them warm and wet for you while you use his face as leverage to fuck him harder, but he knows how much his noises spur you on, and right now he really doesn’t want to piss you off. not when you’re indulging him so well. “that’s it… you’re so good… darling.”

“not so shy anymore?” you hummed, licking a hot stripe up his neck, his gasp twisting into a whine. “think we can make you louder?”

“sweetheart,” he sighs as he feels your hand wrap around his throat, and he tilts his head back to let you grip it properly. “you already know what i want.”

“well, i don’t think so.” you smile, leaning down to press your cheek against his, working away from behind with short, firm thrusts that steal his breath away. “remind me. did we use the magic word yet?”

but just as he’s about to answer with snark, there’s the rap of fists against his office door, and silco feels his heart plummet. not now, when things were about to get good—this was the worst timing possible. “everything alright, boss?”

“yes,” silco pants, “fuck… yes.”

you can feel his nails dig into the back of your thigh, warning you not to pull out. you’re thick and heavy, resting against his stomach, and silco feels so fucking good and full. you can’t stop now. not until he’s had his fill. he can vaguely feel your warm seed trailing its way down his perineum in a slow trickle, and fuck, he wants more. wants to feel stuffed even without you inside him, drowsy and content.

he blinks, brows furrowing as he catches himself fantasizing about you yet again. should he even be having thoughts like these in his forties? was this healthy? sex with you was life-changingly—and now apparently hormone-alteringly good.

“sir?” sevika’s growl interrupts his train of thought. and yeah, not to mention—his second-in-command is right outside his office, while all he can think about is cock. shit. your big, leaky cock, buried to the hilt inside his hole. he wonders if it’ll be gaping once you’re done with him. and oh. cum. loads of your cum, filling up every inch of space inside him. making it hard to breathe. making him swel— “is someone in there with you?”

“yes,” silco wheezes dumbly as you roll your hips against him with meaning, forcing him to take you deeper. he trembles, shifting back slightly to fuck himself on your cock, forcing a sharp inhale from you. “we are busy. you’re, oh… dismissed, sevika.”

the silence is loud, save for the almost-silent squelches of your cock maneuvering inside him with all the cum stored in his belly.

you can feel his heart pounding from the way your chest is pressed against his bare back. or maybe it’s your own. his walls squeeze around you, sinfully tight, pulling a muffled moan from where you have your teeth sunken into his shoulder. fuck. he’s—silco’s actually into this. you’d have never guessed he would be such a freak, for lack of a better word, but with how things were going . . . you didn’t mind it. not one bit. it drove you crazy with want, if anything.

“... if you say so, boss.” the sound of retreating footsteps fills you with both relief and disappointment, but before you could even process what that means, you can feel silco gazing at you through his lashes, low and scrutinizing and something needy.

“did i say you could stop?” silco grunts. “fuck me.”

you let out a shaky sigh, hips already bucking back into the warm mould of your cock—and the next sound that drives past his lips is a loud and unabashed sob of your name.

you think you might have unlocked something new in your lover.

VIKTOR

“it won’t fit,” viktor slurs, moans tumbling out of his mouth as he gives a shaky roll of his hips. he’s not quite there yet, with only the tip sucked in, but he’s making good progress. “i’m terribly s-sorry, dear. your… appendage. it’s too big.”

his eyes flutter shut at the feeling of your hands forming a ring around his waist, strong and firm, a warm assurance that there was a possibility… although slight, that he’d make it.

“it’ll fit,” you murmur, kissing the sensitive spot at the back of his ear, the one that makes him suck in a sharp breath and shudder. “you’re doing very good, love. just… a little more, yeah?”

viktor looks down. it’s nowhere near a little more. you’re barely halfway in and he’s already thinking about quitting—has been, since the stupidly huge head of your cock breached his rim, making him feel a stretch that no amount of fingers or plastic toys could replicate. it was something extraordinary. overwhelmingly so.

“please,” he mewls, forehead dropping to rest on your shoulder. “t-touch me? i think i’ll probably, hah, ease up a little if you would… oh, yes. thank you, dear. thank you.”

it’s… in simple words, too much. you’re usually very considerate, taking your time with him with your fingers, rubbing on his tender walls until he loosens enough for you to slip another one in. the night would then end with you fucking his thighs, sticky and slick with his own cum. it’s good. it’s enough. that was until he started having thoughts of what it would feel like if you were inside him.

but viktor would’ve never imagined it would be like this. the difference in size was just… comical. you were so deep inside him already, the impossible girth forming an obscene bulge over his abdomen, making him whine with the fullness. if this is already what it feels like to have you inside, then just what would it feel like to have you spill inside him?

he can’t lie—he’s spent nights waiting for you to fall asleep first so that he could scoop up some of the cum you had missed on the sheets, quietly fingering himself with the cold slickness. it didn’t feel right, even if it was yours. it just wasn’t the same. he wanted, no, needed to feel it for himself.

it doesn’t help, the way you’re stroking him, ever so gentle with him. your huge palm covers his entire length without having to move much, huge thumb rubbing at his leaking tip, and viktor’s never been so hard before in his whole life. he’s so close already, hole fluttering around you uncontrollably, and it’s almost cute how it looks like it’s going to swallow you up. maybe it is.

maybe it’ll fit.

“last few inches,” you pant, fingers trembling slightly where you’re struggling not to press bruises into the cup of his hips. “can i-? please, vik. it’s so good. you’re so good. i just need a little more. please, baby.”

“yes,” viktor blurts out, before he realises just what he agreed to—but within the next second he can feel something abnormally large pushing its way past his tight walls, faster and rougher than before, even as he tries to clench and hold still—it’s mean and a little too much, but then the back of his thighs meets hot skin and he nearly blacks out with the stretch of it all.

“ngh,” viktor keens, trembling with exhaustion as he tries to settle into your lap comfortably with such a large intrusion within him. “soo full…”

you sigh in pleasure, hands going back to his hips where they belong, pushing him down until you’re satisfied that he’s properly taken everything you’ve given him. it’s not a demand, viktor thinks, more like a comfort. telling him that you’ve always known he would’ve been able to take you in the first place. that this is where he belongs, filled to the brim with you and you only.

he lets out a shuddering moan when you start to slowly bounce him on your lap, lifting him up with ease a good inch or two, before rolling your hips to meet his, pushing yourself deeper. “shit, vik…” you groan, and he cries out with every brush against his prostate, the sheer size of you making it impossible to miss it. “you’re so tight, baby… so perfect. i’m right here with you, okay? easy now, you’re doing so good.”

you’re so good to him as always, whispering sweet nothings into his ear, but it’s different this time, and fuuck. viktor thinks he’s dying with how good it feels. he tries to steer his hips, to actually ride you instead of having you manhandling him up and down your cock, but there’s hardly any friction left now that he’s properly stretched, and any attempt results in him collapsing back to his knees, the pleasure making him weak.

he settles for hanging onto you, arms wrapping around your neck and choking out little whimpers as you rock upwards into his waiting hole again and again, toes curling and nails scratching red trails down your back with the all-consuming pleasure.

it’s driving him crazy, the fullness, the simple thought of you pumping your seed and sperm into him, of making love with you. it’s nothing like the way it was written in the textbooks he had spent nights researching—it’s beyond anything he would have ever imagined.

“please,” viktor sobs out, feeling strangely empty every time you pull out halfway, as ironic as it was—as though there was a chance you would leave him fully. the thought of it hurt. if only you could fit inside him forever. if only. “stay…” he cries, “cum inside. m-make me yours.”

you lean forward, pressing your lips against his in a hurried kiss, at the same time grinding so deep viktor thinks, for a split of a second, that that might be you he’s feeling in his stomach. the broken wail he gives is loud and muffled, and you lap up the drool on the side of his face, watching as your lover’s eyes flutter shut at the feeling of being filled, properly this time, to the brink of spilling.

masterlist!

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koobiie · 1 month ago

Text

bestowing my highest honor as an artist to ffxv (drawing the characters in fun outfits)

thoughts under the cut

RREAAAGHHHH SO EXCITED TO BE DONE WITH THIS!!!!! it took me forevarrrr but i soldiered through as an act of love. now excuse me. yap time

OKAY SO the concept behind this was originally specific fashion subcultures for everyone!l ike noct emo ignis dark academia etc. but then decided i didnt want to pigeonhole it all and just freestyled outfits i thought would look nice on everyone

noct - i do think noct would still be emo-ish but also opt for comfy baggy stuff a lot. something you could just fall asleep in on the spot. note the details of bass pro shop shirt (of course) XV necklace, little moon + stars accents, carbuncle + fish keychains. i also wanted his metal band logo shirt to spell LUCIS but i forgor some letters but its not very readable anyways

ignis - ignit ooohghh ignos ignaurs. sorry i made him serve so much cunt it will happen again. i drew him first cause that kind of inspired this whole thing i love him so bad if i didnt draw it id explode. not much detail to note except his collar pins are like his double blade thingies

luna - lunaaa the concept was “clean girl aesthetic” idk if that happened but im actually really happy with how it came out! might be my favorite of the bunch just because she looks so pretty and happy. your honor she should have been able to just be a normal girl and just. chill

prompto - prompotoooo i had trouble picking his vibe!!! my first thought was techwear?? because weeheeeehee he loves tech and well... you know... but then i realized i didnt really like the look of anything i saw + it was so bulky and dark and serious for him! ending up going with some more youthful and baggy. i was considering something more loud and colorful but ended up not going with it. i feel like in canon he'd be too nervous to have such a flashy fit and would want to just look "cool" to fit in with the boys lol. itty bitty details here - chocobo keychain, pompompurin and bi miku buttons, and his lanyard is kings knight themed! i also thought it was funny to write LUCIS on his shirt like you know those shirts that just say BROOKLYN or TOKYO or SAN FRANCISCO and thats it. thats what its like

gladio - okay i know this is going to sound like a lie but im not horny for gladio like at all, hes my least favorite, i think he's just alright. but also i KNOW in my heart of hearts that he would LOVE being a leather daddy and so i had to make it happen. main detail to note here is that his tank top has the motifs of a cup noodle! i didnt know what else to add cause you know.. hes the cup noodle guy.. but also i didnt want it to be so in your face about it with a big as logo so kept it subtle!

(side note the leather daddy gave me an idea for a post where its like noct and prom go to a gay bar all nervous but then they run into gladio and its like "p: GLADIO YOURE GAY?" "n: nevermind that PLEASE dont tell ignis we snuck out" and then ignis walks up and theyre all like WHAT THE FUCK!!!! caption would be "the gang finds out theyre all bisexual." probably wont draw it but i think its very funny lol)

iris - iris my sweetheart.... definitely leaned into the scene vibes here and also that one image of the blonde emo anime girl. details here - of course the moogle big ass backpack and keychain (can you tell i love keychains), but also her buttons are an iris (the flower) and also a crown with hearts (haha symbolism)

anyways oh god i didnt mean to write an essay down here. usually i keep this in the tags but this time i just had Too Much To Say. can you tell i put a lot of thought and love into this . anwyays. *walks off into the sunset and fuckig dies*

#ffxv #final fantasy xv #ff15 #final fantasy 15 #noctis lucis caelum #ignis scientia #lunafreya nox fleuret #prompto argentum #gladiolus amicitia #iris amicitia #koob art #digital art #procreate #illustration #1k

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nouvxllev · 7 months ago

Note

Could you possibly do a story where Tara and Y/N get caught in the middle of fucking by Sam??

(Can be Tara x Fem!Reader, Gp!Tara x Fem!Reader, or Tara x Gp!Reader.)

my sister!?

Pairing: Tara Carpenter x GP!Reader

Summary: request!! ^^

Words: 4k

Warnings/tags: immediate smut, pretend the carpenters have a house and not a shared apartment in new york, protective sam carpenter!!!!!, no ghostface au

a/n: writers block is KILLING me, feelin like i cant write shit

masterlist.

An innocent study night with Tara was impossible.

"Tara—Tara, oh f-fuck, you're taking me so well..."

The sight of Tara beneath you should be a sin of its own; tears stinging her eyes locked on yours with mascara running down her cheeks, her soft, abused lipstick-stained lips parting for pathetic notes of moans and whimpers. Strands of hair lay in a mess on her mattress you relentlessly ruined her on every night she asked of you to.

Every sound she made drove you to closer to insanity, knowing you could worship her everyday for every sin you committed since meeting her. The way her body responded to the slightest thrust was intoxicating, addicting—so fucking addicting. Her fingers clutched on her sheets as if they could help her, knuckles turning white.

Tara's eyes fluttered open after rolling back in pure ecstasy, letting out soft moans with your cock fitting so right and full inside of her. She was barely holding out on her own, you were just so fucking hot and sexy like this, who could blame her?

"More," she cried, voice trembling while she wrapped her arms around your neck to bring you closer, "Please—Fuck! Y/n, y/n, please I—"

She moaned your name as if it was a prayer, her voice alone making your knees weak. Her body arched into yours, seeking more—always for more. Even with your hands steady on her hips, she moved with a mind of her own in her cock-drunk state.

Your grip on her waist tightened, fingers almost bruising her perfect, soft skin as you buried yourself deeper inside her. Her name fell shamelessly from your lips as you felt an aching knot forming in your stomach.

"Tara—I'm so... fuck, m' so close..." you breathed, pupils blown out as you locked eyes with her. Her eyes, everything about her was desperate, fuck, you both were.

Tara—breathless and spent from being so stretched—nodded frantically, her lips pathetically opening and closing almost immediately as if she could say anything other than your name and soft moans.

"Close.. close, too." She gulped, breath hitching, eyes rolling to the back of her head, feeling every inch of you so deliciously deep inside of her. "Fuck, don't stop!"

You were so close, so close to feeling Tara's walls clenching against you that could make every sense in your body go dumb fucking weak and numb, your name dangerously on the tip of her tongue while she goes onto levels higher than cloud 9 as you help her ride out her orgasm.

Close, Tara's so close, so close, fuck, fuck fuck—

When you came, Tara came down hard. Her figure perfectly arched as you rocked your hips back and forth inside of her, the both of you falling into silent moans and hot breaths.

"Tara... are you alright? Shit, Tara, you feel so goo..."

A door opened.

"What the fuck."

Sam. Carpenter. Standing.

You. Tara. On. Bed.

Sam Carpenter, Tara Carpenter. Carpenters.

You. Not Carpenter. Definitely not after today.

Sisters. Right-

FUCK.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

How batshit, totally and flat out embarrassing it would be to be caught having rough sex with your girlfriend in the middle of the night at her house when you're supposed to be studying?

No, it would be fine, very fine actually if it was one of the gang. Hell, you'd take Mindy or Chad any day opening the door to see you and Tara fucking around. You'd live with it and wear it like a fucking badge of honor.

If it wasn't her damn sister.

Sam already despised you for being Tara's girlfriend! You couldn't even hold her close for more than thirty seconds without Sam threatening to grab a hammer and bash your skull in.

What's even worse than that is how she led you both down stairs after awkwardly cleaning up and she's now pacing back and forth in front of the couch Sam pushed you on.

"Sam, you're being overdramatic, we're not those sex-obsessed teens that need counseling." Tara, arms crossed with an adorable pout (you'd defend that pout to your last breath), tackled before her sister could even say anything. "I'm 21 for fucks sake!"

"Oh, Tara, don't even get me started—You literally just turned into the legal drinking age two fucking weeks ago!" Sam stopped in her tracks, pointing at Tara with probably the most killer eyes a killer would kill.

"So—!?"

Sam cut her off before Tara could even say anything, her gaze now directed towards you. "And you," oh shit, you were in for it, "My sister!? That's very low of you, Y/n—"

"Oh, y/n was definitely going low on—"

"Yup, okay, no, stop—Tara." You quickly covered Tara's mouth with your hand before she could further damage your already very rocky relationship with Sam. Come on, you still wanted to be invited to Thanksgiving and Christmas!

"Sam." You took a deep breath, "I am truly sorry for… uhm… doing that. I know that you're being protective and I too would hang myself if I ever hurt Tara in anyway—"

"Mostly sexually." Tara chimed in the background, a shit-eating smirk on her face.

Sam tilted her head like some kind of horror movie scare, "Do you wanna explain what the fuck I just heard from my younger sister, y/n?"

"No, no! I haven't hurt Tara in that way, I swear—!"

"Probably because it felt so good."

You turned to Tara, face twisted for dear life, "Tara do you want my ass kicked or not!?"

Sadly for your long-lived lifespan, Sam was already towering over you.

"It was an accident, I promise, and I—!"

"So you just accidentally slipped and magically ended up being inside my sister for hours?"

Okay, maybe suicide really is the better option. How the fuck do you even respond to that!?

"I—" Fuck, shit, fuck, dick, how do you breathe!? "Well, I... I wouldn't phrase it like that—"

"You know the walls are thin?"

"Y..yes, I'm very sure and—"

"The whole damn house was barely holding up, I thought a fucking 9.8 magnitude earthquake started when I opened the door!"

"We... We are so sorry—"

"And you're also sure that I'd eventually slit your throat in half?"

"Sam, please, I really am s—"

"You know I have a fucking taser in my pocket? The only reason that's restraining me from using it because Tara's sees you as someone alright."

"...Uhm, sweet, but Sam—"

You would thank the heavens for such an assertive and a somehow kind of rebellious to her sisters wishes girlfriend by how Tara stood up so abruptly that a very poor and sad excuse of an excuse in your mind went away.

"You want an apology, Sam?" She tilted her head as she stepped forward, "I'll give you a fucking apology." You know, for a 5 foot nothing girl, she can definitely throw hands. Or words.

"We... are sorry. Actually, Y/n's—"

"Oh my god." You whined in the background.

"Y/n's very sorry for fucking—"

"Okay, no, stop." You interrupted immediately. Why the term!? Infront of her sister!?

"Having sex—!"

"No."

"Intercourse—!"

"No."

"Having... Having coitus—!"

"No, why the hell would you use that!?"

"Making love!"

"Best you could do."

"Y/n's very sorry for being so damn good making love to me in bed, making my mattress squeak louder than a fucking banshee with her cock ramming and giving me multiple orgasms that Danny can't even—!"

"Alllright, I'm stopping you before you get legally disowned at the age of 21" You grabbed Tara by her arms and lifted her up before your entire sex life with her comes tumbling down on your girlfriends sister.

The room was silent. Almost too silent, you swear you could go deaf if more than a second even passes by. Not even a rolling surge of tumbleweed could make it seem less awkward than it is. Even your dignity left.

That was until you heard Sam taking a deep breath.

Before you knew it, you were kicked out of the house with Tara's voice behind you literally defending by describing, in horrific detail, how good you were in bed until Sam shut her up.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The walk home was and felt downright shameful, even the traffic lights refused to turn green for you. It's like you have a bindle attached to your palms to forever ingrain the memory of Sam's face while you were literally inches deep in Tara.

You crash into your apartment a minute later after fiddling with your keys, not even bothering to take off your coat. You just collapse onto the atleast comfortable carpet floor and let the mites decompose your entire body.

But not even god himself can let you mellow in your own embarrassment, sadness, awkwardness—literally all of the above—without your phone ringing at one of the worst times in your life. Soon you'll hope it'll be seven trumpets.

You blinked from your spot on the floor. It was too good and too much effort to even sit up properly and take the call.

With a soft groan, you roll over like a ragdoll, fumbling for your phone deep in your pockets. You were ready to decline right there and there, or maybe be a dick and answer just to hang up a second later after swearing at them.

Until you saw the name Tara Carpenter with a heart emoji beside it.

Of course, against your better judgment, you answer. How could you not?

"Can you come over?"

Tara's soft voice whispers over the phone, you can almost picture her twisting and turning on her bed, fiddling with the hem of her shirt.

You sigh heavily, managing to croak out a response, "Tara... you know I can't—"

"Please?"

You swallow hard, heart pounding in your chest. She's using that voice that you're so sure could lead to you prison. You're just so glad you're not there in person to see her beautiful brown doe eyes.

You stand up abruptly, clearing your throat. "It's only been 30 minutes since Sam caught us and practically banished me from your home. How am I supposed to—"

"It’s like you’ve never snuck out before!"

"This time it’s serious, Tara! Pretty sure Sam literally hates my guts by now."

There's a pause that interrupts your thoughts, the line going completely silent, wondering if Tara got so irritated she actually hung up on you.

"...Tara?"

"I have windows." She responds, as if she's snapping her two fingers together, "You can sneak in through one."

You smiled. Of course she'd think of this now when all the times you've "snuck" in was through their door (surprisingly, it always worked in the middle of the night.)

"Thought Sam nailed them shut after hearing about a loose serial killer?"

"Found out it’s bullshit, just some teenagers having the trip to scare people for fun. Just—Please."

You roll your eyes, "Okay, well, I'm not going to risk my life—"

"You already are, I can hear you over the phone packing your shit."

Oh, how this girl knows you so well.

You zip up your bag while having your phone pinched between your ear and shoulder, "Yeah, see you in a bit."

The brunette chuckles over your words, you could already see her standing up and opening her window from the sounds you hear. Heavenly.

"Damn, you love me."

"Horribly. Say it back?"

"I will when you get here. Hurry, please."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It took a long while to reach the Carpenters' house and even longer to actually go up to Tara's window. Climbing a nearby tree and swinging over like Tarzan was a real pain in the ass.

When you finally reach her window, you see Tara lying on her bed, headphones blaring so loudly you can hear the music from outside, plus she's wearing an oversized graphic tee that you're pretty sure is yours.

"Tara!" you call out, knocking on the side of the wall, your shoes gripping the bricks as you wait for her to notice your figure clinging onto a roof for dear life just outside.

Tara doesn't hear you at first, courtesy of the headphones you bought her for her 18th birthday. You knocked a bit louder, but not too loud Sam suspects something.

You have half a mind to just go in unannounced when Tara finally looks up and immediately rushes over your side.

"You know, it's actually harsh to keep a girl wai—"

You were wrapped between her arms before you could even finish.

Tara's lips met yours in a way you melt instantly beneath her breathless, parting her lips and tilting her head to give herself better access inside of you.

She's soft in your arms, yet so eager by how she's gripping the collar of your shirt and pulling you as if you could be any more entwined.

"You kept me waiting." She breaks only to whisper, words coming in a rasp with her breath hot on your lips as she draws you in for more of her.

You're dizzy, hazed, intoxicated, completely fucked by how her tongue presses on yours so painfully heavenly and her teeth nibbling on your bottom lip. You could stumble around your words if she let you to speak. Your hands could go nowhere but on their perfect place on her waist.

Her fingers trail against your skin, tangling within the strands of hair only to pull you more closer to her, forcing your head to tilt at an angle that could make her invade all the right places inside of you.

You sigh in her mouth before regrettably pushing her away, "You wanted to see me?"

Tara's lips curve as she she presses herself against you, her hands traveling from your chest to your face, brushing her fingers gently against your cheek. The mere motion sending cold shivers down your spine that reminds you of your cock slowly growing beneath layers of fabric.

"Fuck that, I needed you." She murmurs, your heart running faster than the way her breathing goes after making out with you. Her hands seemingly wanting nothing more than to roam over your body, tracing all the way down to palm your growing erection underneath your shorts.

A low groan escaped your lips, yours hands finding their way down to softly cup the curve of her ass. "Tara please, don't..."

"Hm," she hums softly, brown eyes filled with nothing but lost gazing directly at your own, "You know I can't resist you, especially when I have you like this," Her voice is teasing. Tantalizing, even, marked with an innocent smile on her face as if she's not an inch away of giving you a handjob.

A chaste peck on your lips was enough for you to spiral and your dick to throb from its clothed prison, her fingers tracing lazy circles around your cock until she stopped at the dip of the waistbands of your shorts.

"You wanna fuck me first, or should I take the lead?"

Your mind raced, cock twitching from her voice alone, words spent while your breathing was anything but calm, pupils blown out and dilated as you looked at the brunette. But there's only one answer that she needed from you.

Without a word, your hands slid under her thighs, effortlessly lifting her up from the floor and straddling her figure down to her ass at your arms, earning a startled hum from the girl.

Her arms went around your neck, one hand trailing from your nape to the strands of your hair, pulling your head closer to her, meeting your lips in an immediate kiss that had Tara moaning and desperately bucking her hips.

You carried her to bed with her legs wrapped tightly around your waist while her hands lingered on your neck, fingers delicately tracing your jawline while she ravished your mouth alone.

Tara was sloppy with you, kisses so wet and desperate, her tongue exploring every inch of your mouth. She was filthy by how she gazed at you with eyes as if she was innocent, how she let her fingers roam your body in all the right places that had your dick leaking.

With a soft groan, you laid her down on the bed, your hands moving to grip her hips as she continued to explore your mouth, not once did she pull away. Not even to spare a breath.

But, you surrendered to her, pulling her away with a string of saliva connecting your lips together.

Fuck, she looked divine.

A sight you always saw in the middle of the night, yet not even the light could take you away from her. Lips stained with mixed saliva from the both of you. Even with your own inches away, her lips stay parted as she pants for air.

It took you a while before you even noticed Tara and you were completely naked, the small girl revealing to be wearing nothing the whole time you were there.

"Shit, Tara. You were wearing nothing but my shirt?" You rasped, breathing heavily while you placed your arms in between her head to push yourself up.

She smiled, chuckled even as she looked at you, hands traveling from your neck down to your chest, "You know I love putting on a show for you, baby." She winked as her fingers ghosted over your nipples, touch so warm and delicate before sliding lower, tracing the lines of your abs. "Fuck, you're so hot like this."

You shivered underneath her touch, even forgetting you were the one who brought her to such a state, yet you were the one who looked pathetic. Whining and completely whimpering on top of her.

You swallow hard, trying to maintain even the slightest bit of dignity and control. "Tara," you whisper, "You're driving me crazy."

She giggles softly, "Good," she murmurs before grasping your wrist and guiding your hand to the waistband of your shorts. "That's exactly what I want to do. Just fuck me, please."

You couldn't hold back any longer as you pulled down your shorts, boxers sliding down your waist as your aching cock springing out, slapping against your chest while it stood tall and hard for seven inches.

Your hand slipped between your bodies to grasp the throbbing length, tip dripping with pre-cum as your thumb grazed over the slit. "Wanna see how good you take me, Tara." You wrapped your fingers around your cock, stroking it up and down as you guided it along her slick folds. "Fuck, you're soaked."

"Stop… Stop teasing, please, oH GOD!"

Tara's hands frantically had a tight grip on your shoulders as you shoved every inch of you inside of her, breath erratic as she tried to suppress every moan down in her throat, her back arching off the bed as you penetrated her so deep

The intense stretch made her eyes flutter open, rolling into the back of head, letting out tears from the pain as her toes curled in pleasure.

You weren't holding up either, she took you so well, her red velvety and slick walls tightening around your cock drove you into a haze. Her nails leaving red marks in their wake on your back, the atmosphere filled with the sounds of skin against skin, gasps and moans of pleasure from Tara increasingly getting louder.

"F-fuck… Oh, fuck!" She gasped, moving her hips to the rhythm of her trusts as you grabbed both of her legs and pulled her closer to you, "Yeah.. Yeah, right there baby!"

All you could think about were her soft moans, face crying from a mixture of pain and pleasure from being stuffed to the brim, keeping a steady pace that had her a moaning mess on your hands.

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You know, Sam always had weird dreams. Weirder than the next, gory than anything from the amount of horror movies she watched along with her younger sister, Tara.

Anything you could do to Sam, she would barely give one or two fucks. Scary movie? More of a boring sit-com that tries to give characters motive and plot some development. Jumpscare her? Reality or movies, either way, you're getting a jumpscare yourself by a hospital bill after she's done with you.

She fears nothing. Except when she woke up just now, hearing her younger sisters voice down the hallway from her room.

Oh my fucking, GOD.

She hopes it'll be a dream, she'd take anything but this. Ever since Tara got a girlfriend, you were nothing but a pain in the ass for her. I mean, she trusts you, sure, but not that enough.

The older Carpenter gets up almost immediately, eyebrows furrowed while her heart heaved with anger. And most probably wrath, and an apology to Tara if she ever found out that her girlfriend was bashed on the skull by her sister.

Every walk she made, the noises got louder yet softer. By the time she was at her door, the noises dropped. Was it all a dream? A nightmare maybe? She'd take that any day.

"Tara!" She yelled out as she took notice of the light illuminating on the creaks of her room., softly knocking on her door. Even if you were there, it's still a 50/50 chance that Tara's actually sleeping. Or sleepwalking even.

She waits for a second.

Then two.

Three.

Four—Okay, no, she's opening the damn door.

She turns the doorknob and immediately bursts into the room. Her eyes scanning the space for any signs of you.

There doesn't seem to be anything.

Her eyes immediately spotted Tara. Or maybe half of her peeking out of the soft blanket with a pillow in between her legs. The only thing that seemed out of place was her window open.

She was about to move a lazy strand of hair away from her face, her hand was already hovering over her body. That was until Tara moved on her own. Murmuring something about some TV show. Or a cinema date, whatever it is that involved your godforsaken name.

"Thank God, that scared me." Sam whispered to herself before going over to Tara's bed, eyes still wandering over Tara's sleeping (?) face before standing up and leaving the room.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You popped out of the blanket that was covering both you and Tara after giving her one of the best orgasms she's ever had. But the heart attack you both experienced when you heard Sam's footsteps was not fucking it!

A tense breath escapes your lips, relief flooding through you as you look at Tara, post-orgasm. Her eyes are dazed, a silly smile adorning her face.

"Tara, seriously, do you never lock your doors?" you whisper to her, arms sliding on her back to flip the both of you over. Your hands cupping her cheeks, trailing her jawline while you tucked a strand of hair behind her ears.

Tara's laughter rings out softly in the quiet, her cheeks flushed with her chest heaving. There was always something you loved about her smile, her laugh. Sure it was because it was like a taste of heaven as some pathetic human, but… Dimples. Dim-fucking-ples.

She rolls her eyes, letting her head fall on your collarbone. "I have Sam Carpenter in my bloodline, it's pointless."

"Don't be so hard on her." You stroke her hair gently, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "She's just looking out for you," you remind her, tone soft with understanding.

She sighs against your skin. "She's overdoing it. Like, I can throw a punch. Did you not see the fight I pulled with that dick from a party in the middle of nowhere may I remind you? I could've sworn Mindy sent the video to you!"

"Yeah Tara, but you're also an A24 chick who could memorize the full script of The Babadook, I love you for it baby." You laughed. "But Sam is just looking out for you. Especially me, I literally just fucked her sister in her house."

Tara looks up at you. Batting her eyelashes and smirking while she tilted her head, planting a chaste kiss near your lips, but not near enough you could taste her. "And you fucked her so well."

"We are not having another round, Tara."

"You know me so well it's fucking irritating. Can you just not?" She scoffs, but only playfully.

"But you actually should lock them, it's a safety hazard."

"Mhm, and you should let me ride you." She turns to the side, falling over your body, her hands tracing the soft dips and your toned abs.

"After that heart attack? No, Tara."

"Yeah?" She cocked her head, "Then why not give me more reasons why you're still hard."

"Oh..." You looked down. Fuck, you are. "Oh, fuck you."

"I'm hoping you will."

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head before turning to her side, "By the way, you never said the thing."

She wrapped her arms around your body as you faced her. "Oh, what thing this time, baby?"

You sigh.

"I love you."

Tara laughs. She knew what you wanted.

"I love you too."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

a/n: im back!

#tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x female reader #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x gpreader #tara carpenter x gp!reader #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna marie ortega #jenna ortega x female reader

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dollishmehrayan · 13 days ago

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BATBOYS WITH A STYLISH READER ── .✦

a/n: so I tried to base this off of me because I like genuinely LOVE fashion and creativity (my closet is seriously so full rn but I keep buying and buying but soon I’m gonna donate some pieces I never wore/ won’t wear again when i’m like moving in 5/6 months (in April) but anyways yeahh this is requested by the wonderful @luvly_writer (I GENUINELY DONT KNOW WHY MY MENITONS ARENT WORKING TODAY!?!?

tags: (batboys x stylish reader ᥫ᭡)

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

Dick’s always had a decent sense of fashion, but after meeting you, he realized his wardrobe could use some spicing up.

“Okay, I need help,” he says, holding up his closet of endless leather jackets and dark jeans. “It’s starting to feel like I’m a character in a some main character show..” (this tiktok HELPP here)

You pull together a sleek but casual look for him, fitted trousers, a patterned button-up, and a blazer. When he sees himself in the mirror, he whistles.

“Are you sure I’m not about to walk the runway?”

He loves when you add your flair to his outfits, often saying, “This is why I’m with you.”

Eventually, Dick starts mimicking your style in small ways—accessories, boots, and bolder colors. He’ll even joke, “You’re rubbing off on me in more ways than one.”

JASON TODD ── .✦

Jason scoffs at the idea at first. “I don’t need to be styled. My leather jacket and boots are timeless, I don’t need like bags and purses like you.”

But then he starts noticing the way you turn heads wherever you go and how people always stop you to ask where you got your hat or etc from, and he gets curious.

One day, he half-jokingly says, “Alright, fashionista. Make me look less like I just rolled out of a biker gang.”

You have so much fun dressing him in a sharp, dark button-up, fitted jeans, and Chelsea boots. When you suggest a leather trench coat instead of his usual jacket, he raises an eyebrow but ends up loving it.

“I look like a villain trying blow up something in broad daylight,” he says, smirking. “But, like, a hot one.”

Jason doesn’t fully change his wardrobe, but he starts incorporating your suggestions—better fits, fewer holes in his shirts, and maybe a sweater or two. He always claims it’s to “shut you up,” but deep down, he loves how confident it makes him feel when his s/o chooses stuff for him.

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

Tim’s wardrobe is functional. It’s not bad because there’s a DIFFERENCE, Timothy drake wayne dresses in suits and is high end and chic but regular tim well… tim Is tim but he DOES care about what he wears just not like that serious about it, but it’s very much “guy who spends more time in front of a computer than a mirror.”

One day, he asks, “Do you think I should update my wardrobe? You know, to look… presentable?”

You practically light up, dragging him out for a shopping spree.

He’s a little overwhelmed by how excited you are, but he secretly loves the attention.

You pick out layered outfits—hoodies with tailored jackets, clean sneakers, and pants that actually fit. When he tries them on, he’s surprised at how good he looks.

“So this is what it feels like to be stylish,” he muses.

Over time, Tim starts borrowing pieces of your style. He’ll wear scarves, experiment with glasses frames, and even tuck his shirts in occasionally. You catch him researching minimalist fashion on Pinterest once, and he sheepishly admits, “You’re a bad influence.”

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

Damian has a sharp sense of style already (thanks, Talia and Bruce), but he finds himself intrigued by your unique flair.

“You have a good eye for aesthetics,” he says one day, almost shyly. “Perhaps you could lend me some… insight.”

Styling Damian is like working with a blank canvas—he’s open to trying new things as long as it doesn’t compromise his dignified image.

You help him experiment with layered textures, sleek boots, and subtle patterns. He refuses anything too colorful but surprises you by agreeing to a deep emerald green blazer.

“I look… distinguished,” he admits, staring at his reflection.

He starts taking inspiration from your wardrobe, incorporating more modern and creative touches into his outfits. Every now and then, he’ll ask, “What do you think of this?” before leaving for an event.

Damian also becomes oddly protective of your style. If someone tries to copy you, he’ll say something like, “Flattery may be the sincerest form of imitation, but it’s wasted when done poorly.”

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

Bruce is already a style icon, but when he starts noticing the effortless way you put together outfits, he gets curious.

“What would you do with this suit?” he asks, gesturing to one of his many black ensembles.

You tease him for being so predictable but suggest a few changes—adding a pocket square, switching up his tie, and choosing a dark navy instead of black.

When he steps out in the new look, even Alfred raises an approving eyebrow.

“Now I’ll have to think about my outfits.”

He begins to take subtle cues from your style, occasionally asking for your opinion before galas. You catch him sneaking glances at your Pinterest boards once, and he pretends it’s for “business purposes” (you had to private your pin board after because he keeps buying 10 of each of what you put on your Pinterest board.)

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chuuyascumsock · 2 months ago

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You're All I Want [Week Two] || MINORS DNI

Summary: No one really seems to fit your standards, your roommate, Chuuya, proves otherwise.

Tags: Chuuya Nakahara/Reader, Female reader, 3.5k Words, Jealous Chuuya, Cunnilingus, Pussy Worship, Overstimulation, Spitting, Cum Eating, Chuuya Comes In His Pants, Petnames (Pretty Girl, Dollface, Sweetheart, etc.), He Should Be The Standard Tbh, Wyd If Your Man Isn’t A 5’3” Ginger Mafia Executive, Perhaps I Projected Slightly Since It’s My Birthday In Two Days And This Is My Gift To Me, Mwah.

Sinners: @pe4rl-diver , @sakui1 , @mxya-dreams , @runs-withscissors , @writingandmusing , @mairia-chan , @dearestwitchtrials

Becoming a mafia executive’s roommate was not on your to-do list, yet here you were— from moving what was left of your belongings into a large empty room to finally redecorating the minimalist aesthetic your roommate’s apartment seemed to take on with him barely being there already due to his occupation. You seemed to fill a space in Chuuya’s life that he didn’t know he was missing.

Now there wasn’t a day he didn’t come home late into the night and not expect you to be up and about doing your own activities, acting as if you were some nocturnal deviant that haunts the night with random shenanigans. He can’t count how many times he’s walked in to find you nursing one of his cheaper bottles of wine and cooking or baking something that you just happened to find while scrolling through social media, offering him some in return with an awkward grin to avoid his wrath for finishing nearly half his bottle. Of course, he was always too tired to fight you on the matter from the day and would take the rest of the bottle for himself before sitting at the island counter to wait for you to finish with whatever you were making.

Or the amount of times you bought something new to add on to the decorations in your apartment, showing it off proudly to Chuuya as you placed it next to the tons of other random vintage-looking trinkets and paintings you got in the past. Though he never complained much because how could he argue about how busy the decorating looked when he was barely there to look at it in the first place?

And when he got the day off, you were there with him most often, binging movie series or begging to go shopping with him because you couldn’t help but marvel at the small stationary sections they had in the stores he frequented. He rolls his eyes and scoffs every time with a snarky, yet harmless comment to make about your buying habits— wondering when you’d ever need a dog themed wine opener, only to realize weeks later that he had been using it every time he opened a new bottle and that you payed close attention to his likes and dislikes. It made him feel a little bit better about allowing you to be his roommate at all, not sure how it would go with how you were when you first met.

He never once thought he’d experience having a woman come up to him while was in the middle of fighting at least five opposing gang members to ask him for directions to the nearest convenience shop. Of course, he almost didn’t have that chance to advance any further with you as he had with the onslaught of bullets that came your way, but with his ability and quick reflexes, he pulled you out of the way to take cover behind a car, chastising you on your social awareness— or lack thereof. Your reasoning behind approaching him out of everyone else in the area was beyond him, and you admit that you don’t even know why yourself, seemingly finding that you were just naturally drawn to him. And he did eventually get you to that convenience store that you were asking about.

How you ended up being roommates? Chuuya likes to blame the fact that he was partly raised by Kouyou to be a gentleman for his choice of offering you a place in his apartment after you met him once more weeks later at a bar, whining about the flooding in your apartment complex that had everyone looking for a new place to live, including yourself. He’d never seen you look so flustered and timid, trying to back track and stumble over how it really wasn’t a big deal and how you were just going to couch surf with one of your friends until you found somewhere else to stay.

If there was something that Chuuya was, it was stubborn, but he learned that night that you were too— going back and forth for nearly an hour with each other until you were immediately persuaded with the promise of him taking you out to ice cream after getting you sobered up and back to your place to collect what was left of your items.

You settled in quickly and easily, your presence becoming one that Chuuya couldn’t ignore if missing.

Which is why he was so put off by your absence one night when he came home to find everything in dead silence with all the lights and TV shut off. It almost felt… empty, and it caught Chuuya off-guard. Maybe you went to bed early for once? But usually when that happened, you always— always left the TV on while you slept away on the couch, curled up cutely beneath one of his expensive throw-blankets. There was the chance that you weren’t feeling well and decided to sleep in your room for once, but after quietly shuffling over to your room and peeking in, your bed was empty— sheets strewn about and your multitude of pillows bunched around your sleeping spot.

Then he thought there was always the possibility that you got one of your random cravings for a specific junk food and went down to the small convenience shop down the road to buy it. But he knows that you always drag him along no matter how tired you both are or how long you have to wait for him to get home because you feel safer with him.

Pacing back into his room, he takes off his hat and gloves, hands sweaty as he takes out his phone. On one hand, he doesn’t understand why his nerves are acting up because you were probably fine— you had other friends— maybe you’re with them. But there’s still that small thought in the back of his mind that there may be something wrong and he knows it’s definitely because of everything that he’s dealt with in the mafia, including watching nearly everyone he’s ever cared about die. He clicks on your name and sends you a text asking where you are, and if you didn’t answer in five minutes, he’d try to call, and then possibly even go looking for you— but you answer almost immediately and he lets out a soft, relieved sigh that he didn’t even realize he was holding in.

“Didn’t you see my note on the fridge? Aww. You miss me that much (＾ｖ＾)?” As he read your message, he could hear your voice clear in his mind, a small huff leaving his nose as he does. Finally being able to relax, he makes his way into the kitchen and turns the light on to see a yellow sticky note plastered to the fridge with your writing in pink glittery ink. “Won’t be home till super late, on a date. Made udon earlier, leftovers in the fridge.”

Letting the information settle in, he only focuses on the first sentences of your note, a blank look on his face as he re-reads it at least three more times.

A date? He didn’t realize you were even interested in that stuff, or maybe he just assumed you weren’t because he wasn’t interested in it due to focusing on the mafia. At least until now. He doesn’t understand the irritation that eats at him at the thought of you spending your free time with some guy that doesn’t know you at all, probably more interested in the thought of what’s beneath your clothes than anything else. But that’s not his business, so he shouldn’t have a say in it. He wasn’t a controlling person— outside of the mafia at least— he thinks. So why does he feel like he deserves to put any of his two cents in on you going out and enjoying yourself?

He’s barely able to sleep with these thoughts running through his head, deciding to drink a glass of wine while sitting on the couch to soothe his nerves. But it doesn’t stop until he hears the front door unlock and open, a pair of heels clicking against the wood floor. Which was interesting because you didn’t own heels— not going out enough to really bother with them. His head turns to look behind him over the back of the couch, sucking in a breath when he catches a glimpse of you in a tight dress, bent over to take your heels off. His head whips around to face straight again and tries to rid of the image burned in his retinas, free hand coming up to rub at his eyes.

Your feet slap against the ground quietly as you walk over to the couch, moving to sit on the other end of it and lean against the arm rest. You slouch over and sigh tiredly, ready to doze off. “How was work?” You ask, voice groggy.

Glancing away, Chuuya avoids looking at you, deciding to focus on his wine. “It was fine… jus’a lot of paperwork today,” He stiffly replies before hesitantly asking in return, “How was your date?”

He could not explain the relief he felt for a second time that night when he heard your groan of disdain, clearly having had a failed date. “It was going well and then after dinner he said that he wanted a blowjob because he was entitled to one after paying for my dinner even though I offered to pay for my own half. So really, he was just a douchebag,” You mumble out as you curl up further against the armrest, tugging a folded up throw-blanket off of the back of the couch to cover yourself with.

A loud scoff escapes Chuuya lips before he comments, “Yeah, sounds like a real piece of work.”

“S’not even the first time this stuff has happened,” And this fact has Chuuya eyeing you.

“You went on more dates?” He tries not to sound like he’s about to burst a vein, but knowing that you’ve gone on more dates than just the one guy has him nearly foaming at the mouth.

Shifting to sit up a bit, you wrap the blanket around your body and tuck your hands under your chin, watching him brew in a small bout of anger. “Yeah— went on a few actually, but they sucked too. I just went earlier in the evening while you were at work. Why’re you getting so worked up?” You hold back the amusement in your voice and let your eyes follow his bare hand to come up and run through his hair.

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier? Would’ve kicked their asses,” Chuuya grumbles instead of answering your question directly. It makes you giggle quietly, holding back more laughs when his head whips over to look at you and his face scrunches up. “What? What are you laughin’ about? They’re fuckin’ assholes…” He strains, his cheeks flushing at your small grin.

“Nothing… just think it’s a little funny that you’re getting more upset about it than me,” You point out, moving over to sit closer to him.

“Because— cause…” Chuuya trails off, glancing to the side as his face only grows a darker shade of pink. “Guys can be jerk offs, okay? I would know. And it’s bullshit that they treat you like that.” You can tell that something is making him act unusual from his normal nonchalant demeanor— and it only encourages you to get even closer to him until you’re leaning shoulder to shoulder with him.

You think it’s a little cute that he’s so defensive over you, feeling his body stiffen at how you’re pressed against him before relaxing a bit, but still avoiding eye contact. “It’s fine, I’ll just chill on the dates for a while, no one’s been meeting any of my standards anyway. I’m starting to think I’m a little picky.”

“Yeah? What’s your standards?” He mumbles, staring down at his half full wine class as he waits for your response. But instead, he feels the weight against his body shift, your chest now pressing against his arm and warm breath blowing against the side of his neck. Turning his head to look at you, he sucks in a quiet breath as his heterochromatic eyes meet yours in a stare. You gaze at him with a knowing look, eyelids falling into a lull and pupils flickering down to focus on his lips— and he’s done for.

There is no perception of how much time has passed from Chuuya’s lips meeting yours to him lifting you up by the thighs to carry you off into his room and throw you down onto his bed. Climbing over you to hover above your body, his hands are pushing the hem of your dress up eagerly and fumbling to get his own shirt off, lips moving along yours messily, smacking together loudly as he presses you further into the mattress. Everything about his movements are desperate and impatient, taking you back as you had never seen him like this. You eventually tangle your fingers into his slightly mused hair to pull him off of you, panting loudly as you take in breaths of air.

A low groan rumbles from the back of Chuuya’s throat as he subconsciously moves back down to chase your lips, only to be met with your hand tugging on his hair again and an airy laugh from you. “Chuuya, slow down.”

Chuuya lets out a heavy huff, head falling to rest in the crook of your neck as his hands move up to rub along your sides. “You make it hard, pretty girl– ‘specially with this dress on. God, it drives me crazy knowing you wore this for someone else, s’just not fair,” He groans, fingers dragging down to finally push your dress over your hips to reveal your bare cunt to him. You weren’t wearing a damn thing underneath your dress. Chuuya feels at a loss for words, lips parting and pressing together in attempts to find the words he’s looking for before uttering a soft, “Fuck,” And meeting your gaze. “You’re not wearing anything,” He shakily utters, cock twitching to strain against his pants.

“I kind of forgot to do my laundry last night…” You shrug with a timid grin.

He nearly laughs— it’s just like you to do something like this— but he’s too distracted by the way your hand runs through his hair and legs shamelessly rubbing together to do so, his teeth digging into his bottom lip. He’s quick to decide his next moves at the sight, hands gripping your thighs to spread them open as he shifts himself down the bed to hover between your legs.

There’s a strangled noise that squeaks out from your throat at his impatient movements, cheeks burning when his rough hands press against the insides of your thighs to press your legs against the mattress, leaving yourself on full display for him. “What are you doing?” You slightly squirm beneath him.

“Stop that,” He orders firmly, pressing his hands harder down against your thighs. “I wanna taste you,” He murmurs, lips pressing down just below your belly button before moving down to your drooling cunt, his breath hot on your sensitive skin. If he wasn’t hard before, he certainly was now, grunting at the feeling of his aching length pressed against the mattress.

“You don’t have to do that, Chuuya,” You card a hand through his coppery tresses, tugging them for him to look at you.

Chuuya’s mismatched eyes trail up to meet yours, brows narrowed, face still hovering close to you. “I’m doing this cause I want to, dollface, so quit stalling and let me eat this pretty pussy out,” He huffs, bringing a hand down to spread your slick folds apart with his fingers. “Fuck, Sweetheart, can’t believe I’ve been missing out on this,” He groans, leaning in to place a wet kiss against your core. There’s a deep chuckle that leaves him when your hips jolt faintly under his touch and you bite back a moan. “Filthy girl, you like me kissing on your sloppy cunt like this?” He growls out, lips meet your warm insides again, moving against your labia and dripping entrance lewdly as his tongue slips out to lap up your arousal.

You can’t help but tighten your fingers in his hair, whimpering at the feeling of him making out with your pussy, tongue dragging through your lower lips painfully slow to savor your taste all the while staring up at you intensely through his lashes. “Chuuya…”

Chuuya hums softly against you, parting from your pussy with a soft kiss to your clit. “You taste so fuckin’ good, y’know that, pretty girl? Could’ve been doing this ages ago instead of wasting your time on those other guys,” He sighs, readjusting his arms to wrap around each of your thighs and rest them on his shoulders as he leaned back in to wrap his lips around your throbbing clit. His hips grind subtly into the mattress, desperate to rid of the stiffness in his weeping cock, whining lowly into you.

A gasp slips from your parted lips, hips bucking into him needily. “T-Thought you weren’t interested so I— ah— didn’t say anything. Mm! Shit, that feels really good, Chuuya,” You moan out when he sucks harshly at your sensitive nub, your fingers tangling into his messy hair further as you tug at them.

“Could’ve jus’ asked, doll,” He muffles, detaching his lips briefly to spit a glob of saliva onto your clit, watching it trail down to your entrance before bringing his thumb to swipe it back up to your clit, rubbing it in to mix with your arousal. “Like I’d pass up a gorgeous girl like you,” He trails off, burying himself back into you to plunge his tongue past your tight entrance, smothering your spit slickened nub with his thumb.

Your hips only grind harder against him with each curl of his tongue and rub of his thumb, eyes fluttering shut tightly and lips parting further with each broken moan. It’s difficult to respond or even think much with the stirring pleasure coiled in your lower stomach, the only words falling from your mouth being his name. You can’t even move away from the overwhelming pleasure when your release crashes down on you without warning, his arms locking you against him tightly, lips noisily smacking and slurping up everything you have to offer, his own loud groans reverberating against your pussy as he humps against the mattress with fervor, chasing his own high.

You let out a soft cry when he continues eating you out, rolling your pulsing clit between his teeth and tongue before suckling roughly, attempting to pull another orgasm out of you. “Oh, fuck! Chuuya, please— can’t— fuck, fuck— m’coming again,” You choke between whimpers, pulling roughly at his hair as you mindlessly buck your hips against his face until you’re coming for a second time on his tongue which has his own hips stuttering against the mattress as he comes in his pants.

Chuuya finally pulls himself away, placing a final kiss to your inner thigh before shifting to his knees and climbing back over you to cup the side of your neck and pull you into a needy kiss, the taste of your cum still on his tongue. “Y’pretty when you lose yourself like that, dollface. Had me comin’ in my pants,,” He chuckles breathlessly, trailing kisses down your chin to your neck and then back up to peck your lips. “You okay?” He asks, watching you tremble beneath him.

You give a lazy nod, your eyes meeting him to see his pupils lust-blown, hair wildly messed up, and chin drenched with your slick. One of your hands moves to the side of his face, thumb swiping over his chin to wipe away some of the mess he made with a small smile. “I’m okay,” You whisper, voice a bit raspy. “Are you okay?”

He gives you a lopsided grin, catching his breath, “Yeah, M’fine, sweetheart.” He then moves to lay beside you, tugging your dress all the way off your body to toss aside and pepper kisses along your shoulder, curling up against you. He ignores the dark stain in his slacks, leaving it to be a problem for later as he relaxes.

“Hey… Chuuya,” You call out, head turning to face him, nose bumping against his.

“Yeah, doll?”

“I lied about going on more than the one date tonight, I just wanted to see your reaction,” You admit, watching Chuuya’s face twist into multiple different emotions before settling on a blank look.

“You’re not walking for a week after tonight.”

“Woah! Let’s talk about this, I was just joshin’ you!“

“We’ll see how funny it is when you’re using crutches—“

#chuuya x reader #chuuya nakahara x reader #chuuya smut #bsd smut #kinktober #bsd x reader

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sherbertquake56 · 1 month ago

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okay I’m dropping some of my fable arcane au thoughts before the new episodes drop tomorrow even tho most of it is based on season 1 anyway—

so some basic taggings for you that I based the AU around:

1. Icarus as Jinx.

powder vs jinx is just the sherbert vs icarus name thing. toxic father. unhealthy relationship with sibling. a lil crazy and maybe evil. thinks that they are at fault for the things around them. lil bombs? nah- little SPLASH potions. hearing and seeing mylo and claggor? it’s Haley- it’s literally Haley—

2. Fable as Silco.

okay fable’s design WAS partially inspired by silco— they literally look the same— they’re both a man with two priorities: take over and make his own nation & care for child.

you know the ending scene of season 1? where they’re sitting at the table? THAT. With Jinx assuming that he’s gonna give her up to topside and him getting the first chance to talk and saying “her name is JINX!” i could write an essay on that for icarus. they’re so toxic and it’s so perfect. also that scene at the start of s2 ep2? YEAH THAT—

3. Centross as Ekko

This one is controversial and up to debate but i will die on this hill— SO THE S1 BRIDGE FIGHT. I am so willing to put aside any possible prison duo gay-ness in this AU for that rivalry/fight. they were friends!!! they were so good!! and now they wanna KILL EACH OTHER!! it’s great.

It’s also specifically thinking of Ekko’s tree home as solstice— older Ekko very much has the vibe of Violet specifically-

4. Arisanna as Sevika

I DONT KNOW WHY BUT IT MAKES SENSE TO ME. It’s specifically vexed Ari during the coworkers era but idk it just feels right— I look at her relationship with Silco and Jinx and go ‘hmmm this could be something’

[I will also say there is an argument here for swapping Centross and Ari tho— big tree city as Ari rebuilding the records goes hard, and angsty fighty toxic with jinx centross is also good— it’s like 50/50 for me]

5. Isla as Vander

LET ISLA BE A BADASS IN THIS AU. SHE DESERVES IT— something something raising vi and powder alone, something something the backstory with silco— there’s something there and it hits really hard in scenes where vi sees vander and helps her get back up— also I look at jinx and vander and I go “mmmm this is in fact how icarus sees Isla”

6. Rae as Vi

This was obvious given the above but LISTEN— in this ALTERNATE UNIVERSE OF EVENTS I think it would be fun- do I think that vi perfectly fits canon rae? no. But in this world it would KICK ASS. rae deserves to beat some people up— got kicked out of the overworld (zaun) by fable (silco) and had to go to the end (piltover) to get away from him?? rae end prince aus are already here so why not end rae also punching people huh??? also. gay people.

———

Okay— here’s where I need some help, thoughts, and opinions from you all…

1. Caitlyn.

POLYAMORY IS HARD TO TAG AND I DONT KNOW WHO FITS BEST?? For me, season 1 Caitlyn fits best as Caspian, but season 2 Caitlyn is more for Fenris— so I’m very stuck. yes absolutely give thoughts on this please—

2. Viktor as Aax (but how does that work)

Viktor absolutely should be Aax— mr. Scientist / lab experiment / turned religious figure vessel for god is CORRECT. But honestly the rest of Piltover gang is really hard with Rae as Vi— Jayce/Viktor/Mel is yelling at me to be the polycule but aGH— ya know??? very stuck on this so I instead look at the coworkers and go “mm good yes—”

Random other tags I think also make sense:

- Ulysses as that Telchin looking mf Stev— mans took out one lil medical device as his fish self and I said YUP

- The hexcore big orb thing underground as Quixis— big white glitch orb room make things go wack. couldn’t be easier than that.

———

Anyways that’s all— I’ve been rotating this in my mind for like a week and have had way too many thoughts about it thank you for your time—

#this was so long and I’m not even mad #it goes hard #season 1 specifically works so well #fable smp #arcane #fablesmp arcane au #icarus morningstar

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derrygirlstrash · 3 months ago

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Skill issue.

I’d love to be allowed to be as flawed and clever and mad and wonderful and nuanced as a Moffat Woman. I’d love to reclaim my narrative against fate itself and find myself a happy ending even after death. I’d love to still be sexy when women are past the age of being allowed to be in media.

I’d love not having to be perfect to be a victim and be able to stick it to the people who made me one with their so-called “harmless” thoughts and actions. I’d love to be able to look a man who betrayed me in the face and tell him that he is the problem and his jokes aren’t harmless.

I’d love to find my fairytale. I’d love to be a sapphic given immortality to travel with my lover and I’d love to do all of this with insanely good banter and character moments.

This is a skill issue on your part, being a Moffat Woman would be fucking awesome.

If there’s one fictional thing I’d never want to be, it would be a Woman Written By Steven Moffat. I’m not sure what this guy’s deal is, but he has an awful habit of creating badass yet sexualised female characters and then killing them tragically before they can be properly developed, then having them mourned by a sopping wet cat of a man. Now, some of these characters are my absolute favourite parts of the show - Clara Oswald, River Song and Missy for example, and there are a few exceptions such as Bill Potts, but I just think it would be a terrifying fate. I mean, can you even imagine? You’re wandering around a very dodgy London/space location in a short skirt with a thousand witty quips on the tip of your tongue, being trailed by a skinny guy in an unusual outfit, then you get shot or something and it’s very sad and tragic. I would just hate it.

#steven moffat #not derry girls #doctor who #Of course no show beats Derry Girls for being the best at portraying womanhood #but I maintain the likes of Douglas is Cancelled and Doctor Who and Press Gang are good as well #I don’t normally do responses but this was in the tag and I just want cool gifsets and analysis #also what the fuck /respectfully do you mean ‘and then you get shot or something?’#the point is that death doesn’t have to be the end for the Doctor Who women #they died AND THEN they live on somehow #and live full lives #like the Doctor!!!#why should he be the only one to live past death #it’s!!! building up to Thirteen thematically!!!#if anyone got the fridging treatment it was Rory but that doesn’t fit him as a sexist writer now does it #amazing how the companions and River Song reclaiming themselves after a death of sorts is dismissed #they quite literally have some of the most blatant agency any male writer has given their women #or have we forgotten Donna was mindwiped and Rose was given a clone of her love to pacify her loss #the fact that RTD went back and fixed Donna’s ending is a response TO MOFFAT making Clara have agency over her ending #I WILL BITE THINGS ACTUALLY I DO NOT CARE #Autism and ADHD walk into a bar and someone insults Steven Moffat’s Doctor Who writing: 👀😤😡🤬#I would actually go so far as to say as far as straight white make writers go Moffat is S-tier at writing women #“oh but he writes sex comedy! respectfully - fucking so what?#most of the bad Matt Smith moments were ad-libbed by the actors anyway so #and one written by Neil Gaiman #so #there’s that #also why CANT older women do sex comedy?#they should it is subversive actually #Bill Potts is me a black sapphic but Amy Pond is also me: neurodivergent and an outsider #and Clara is me: lowkey a control freak and River is me: curly hair and sex jokes

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cindol · 11 months ago

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Can you do a Connie with shy bimbo reader, and she's Ony sister that is off limit🙏🏿

Connie with a shy bimbo reader who’s also ony’s lil sister !

cw— reader is 23, Connie is 25, ma is used as a pet name, smut, pussy eating, clit sucking, cowgirl position,

a/n: usually don’t write this type of fics but hope u enjoy nonetheless anon 💙

wc: 1309 words

tags- @euphoricbi

The moment he saw shy!bimbo reader he wanted her. As Onyankopon introduced her with her by his side introducing her to the whole gang he just zoned out looking at her. He eyed her from the white earmuffs, pink sweater that matched with her comfortable looking pink skirt that fit her snug around her bottom and knee length pink platform boots.

Anything onyankopon was saying was going out one ear and out the other. When he caught her staring at him he did a small wave at her then smiled at her gasping then looking back down at the floor. He finally snapped out when onyankopon stopped his speech.”Hopefully you all welcome my lil sis nicely, she’s a part of the gang now yes?” Connie snorted at that, she was gonna be a part of the gang somehow by him

Connie didn’t respect onyankopon’s rule of her being off limits at all. When Onyankopon was in the living room chatting with all the other boys he snuck after her when he saw her head upstairs to the bathroom. He was gonna give her her own privacy to use the bathroom till he heard some crashing and yelp coming from her. He was hesitant, not wanting to invade her private time in there but concerned nevertheless so he twisted the doorknob opening it to a confused shy!bimbo reader on the floor with tissue on her face and shoes and what looked like toothpaste in her wig.

If this was anyone else he would’ve busted out laughing like he always does but came forward to her helping her up.”quite a fall huh?” She just trembled her lip pouting.”tried washing my hands.. heard toothpaste has like the same ingredients as regular soap.”

He sighed chuckling.”and where’d you hear that? Reddit?” “Mhm!” He nearly choked on his words from her simple hum and laughed taking the tissue off and kneeling down to the tissue off her boots then coming up to look at her hair, at the top was obvious white Colgate paste on her head.”never trust Reddit baby, now c'mon.. gotta convince your big bro somehow that this isn’t my fault even though it ain’t.”

shy!bimbo reader who sits in her brother's SUV while Connie gets told off by him. She didn’t know what words were exchanged but obviously harsh ones with onyankopon’s body language from her view of watching it through a window.

“Just stay away my little sister con, I know how you get. I don’t want your hands poisoning her.” Connie snorted.”I have no plans of “corrupting” her ‘kopon, was just helping the girl out. You should really teach her sense of direction and her surroundings because who knew how she would’ve ended up if I wasn’t around?”

Onyankopon just sighed touching the brim of his nose.”Just, stay away, yes? I know how you and eren can be so don’t try anything sneaky.” Connie waved him off groaning in a low voice then waving at y/n again when he caught her staring at him.

shy!bimbo reader didn’t listen to onyankopon’s warning at all and neither did Connie as they both found some way to get to know each other behind his back until he finally started to invite her to his house. On her first invite she was shy, hesitating to step inside and leave the front door. It was cute to Connie making him chuckle and lead her in by the small of her back.”Cmon ma, don’t be shy, come out that shell and c'mon in I won’t bite.”

shy!bimbo reader slowly but surely got comfortable with Connie with him showing and teaching her more things. When she told him how she never wanted to dress more proactive, not wanting to seem ‘easy’ he made a clicking sound with his tongue at that.”Bullshit, dress as nasty and inappropriate as you please, real men find that hot.” He said putting emphasis on hot, making her pouty lips make a o shape at that.

shy!bimbo reader for sure took his word though. Making his jaw drop when she would show up in a crop top pink jacket showing her belly and low waist jeans and a dark brunette straight lace with a more excited smile than a shy one at his foot step. Connie has a dry mouth before clearing his throat saying,”you look real different baby.”

shy!bimbo reader was always doing something to tease him now too and Connie couldn’t blame anyone but himself for teaching her these things. He was always caught by surprise when she would jump onto him when he was laying down and come in contact with his bulge making him groan whilst she giggled with a acrylic hand on her mouth. It was all playful to her in a way.”scared you didn’t I con?” While he was just groaning.”scared the damn pants off me nearly..” he mumbled under his breath.

shy!bimbo reader experiments more with connie. When they’re vibing she gets quiet at a flashing sex scene in a movie on the living room Tv and Connie could tell smirking at her when she looked away with her legs squished together.”That got you hot baby?” wrapping a hand around her waist for full effect.”hm?” He adds for full effect making her slowly nod and look at him.

“Wanna tell me what part you liked?” He paused the movie to stop the loud exaggerating moans coming from the flatscreen Tv. She bit her finger before answering.”liked the part where like.. he had her shoulders on his legs and had her screaming.” Connie’s hands started to inch towards her thighs.”oh yeah? Want me to do that huh baby?” His hands reached her inner thighs making her shiver a little and nod.

shy!bimbo reader gets whiny when Connie eats her out. Making whines and soft moans scratching at connie’s buzzcut head with her legs on his shoulders flailing around as he just eats so sloppily.”connieee!” He chuckled at how she was so lost in pleasure that she called him the wrong name and his laughter vibrated inside her pussy making her moan out and cry more arching her back onto the bed. When he pulls out tricks like tonguing and licking her clit it’s too much for her and her vision gets blurry letting out a final high moan and cumming.

shy!bimbo reader found out exactly what she liked doing with Connie especially in sex and that was riding him in the cowgirl position. She wouldn’t admit it because of Connie's teasing but it made her feel powerful to see him unravel from how she would ride him with her hands on his chest and her ass slapping right down everytime. His groans would turn into moans with him having to grip onto her waist to control himself.”Ugh fuck! m-ma! Slow down!” a stutter in his voice and his face just flushed unlike his usual cocky and joking self.

Y/n just continued to slam herself down onto him.”Mmph no! Y-you’re-ah!- pay back for always teasin’ and picking on me!” She did this until all was heard was moans groans and high moans erupting from them.

shy!bimbo reader started getting even more bold in public with him outside of just things inside his room. She didn’t deliberately say she’s shacked up with Connie but there were hints. The way she giggled at his jokes whenever he was around at onyankopon’s house always got some good eyebrow raises from Jean eren and armin.

Once onyankopon left the room for a quick moment they were quick to stare at Connie and Connie just stuck his tongue out and shrugged his shoulders.”What ony don’t know won’t hurt him.”

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harringtons-cupid · 4 months ago

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𝐄𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞, 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 - 𝐄𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Summary: You are shut down by Steve, finding yourself being comforted by your best friend Eddie. After your usual smoke and movie night, it was Eddie who reassured you.

Fluff: Soft Nicknames, kissing, hand-holding, resting head on shoulder, reassurance.

Tagged and cowritten: @doomsdaybby <3

| Masterlist | KO-FI | Divider credit |

You had fancied Steve for a long time.

Every time you tried to get over him, he always found a way making you like him again.

But what you didn’t know was whether he felt the same way.

He was popular, hung around the mean type. There were always other girls around them, giving you little time alone with Steve.

It was not like you would truly stand a chance with him anyway, you were not popular. You had a few friends who occasionally hung around with you.

But your group was called weird by a few of the popular gang.

Steve never said anything mean towards you since that one day when you were both 8. But you knew he wasn’t nice to everyone else, which is why you began to feel special.

However, he was only nice to you because he thought he needed to be. You did save him from a wasp, as he told you then. He was allergic to wasps.

So you and Steve weren’t friends, you’d never be friends with mean Steve but he tolerated you.

Until he saw you began to be friends with Eddie.

He was the complete opposite to Steve, he was kind and caring with no hidden agenda.

You laughed more with Eddie than you would with Steve, the only obvious difference was that Eddie fancied you and you fancied Steve.

“I don’t get why you like him, he doesn’t even know you exist” he shrugged, stubbing his cigarette against the brick wall.

You looked over at Steve, he was laughing loudly with his friends about something. A girl had just came around and draped herself over him.

“He does, I think?” You grimaced, not wanting to admit that Eddie was right. You swiped at him.

“So have you even done anything with since you were 8?” He asked, his thick eyebrows pierced his brow as he looked at you.

Eddie enjoyed teasing you about Steve, he wanted to know why you didn’t like him instead.

“Well no, not really. He sometimes carries my books when his friends aren’t around” you said shyly, trying not to think too much about it.

The romanticised version of Steve your head was going to burst any second but you liked it. It helped you through hard times, having a crush.

“Oo isn’t he a lovely man” Eddie said sarcastically, rolling his eyes as he began to light another cigarette.

As he took the first drag, you took it from him and inhaled it yourself. Coughing heavily as the smoke went into your lungs, Eddie began to laugh at you.

Thrusting the cigarette back into his hands as you overcame the coughing fit, your cheeks flushed red from both embarrassment and lack of oxygen.

Just at the moment when you saw Steve striding over to you both, most of his friends had disappeared not long after the bell rang. But a few lingered across the grounds, watching them all with evil grins.

“Not a surprise” Eddie muttered under his breath, blowing smoke directly in the way of Steve.

He didn’t like Steve because of how he treated you. You could say he was protective of his best friend but there was more to that.

“Hey, babe. I saw you coughing, you ok?” Steve asked, pretending to care about you.

“Oh yes, I just inhaled the cigarette wrong” you blushed, trying to straighten out your outfit.

“Good, because I think we should go on a date” he tried to hold his snigger as he spoke to you.

Your eyes lit up at the words “date”, your stomach fluttered with excitement.

“Yes of course I will” you practically shouted in his face before realising and calmed down.

He nodded, touched your arm slightly before turning back towards his friends. You didn’t notice them as you turned to face Eddie.

“I can’t believe you let yourself fall for his tricks” he sighed, letting his last cigarette drop to the floor.

“Well Eds, I have to go really. I think it’s time” you squealed, still not believing that it would be a ploy.

As everyone else disappeared inside, you and Eddie followed before separating to go to your different classes.

After class, you were replacing your books in your locker when you overheard Steve. He was talking to his friends, not having seen you.

“So you asked her on a date?” His friend sneered.

“I tried to make it friendly” Steve said to him.

“She won’t take it that way” his other friend joked.

“Well it will only be one date, think of my reputation if I’m seen with her” he said rather meanly.

You sighed, trying to pick the right books for the next class.

“No kissing then?” His friend laughed at him.

They were pushing each other behind you,

“Definitely not, I won’t even hold her hand. She means nothing to me” he spat cruelly.

Slamming your locker door shut, tears stung your eyes as you turned to face Steve and his friends.

They were still laughing and talking about you, not ones to give up.

Steve didn’t notice you until the very last minute, as you pushed past him. You could have sworn he mumbled “shit”.

But your feelings were hurt, the romanticism of him was slowly disappearing as you rushed to the fourth class of the day.

You didn’t see Eddie until the bell rang, by that point you were on the verge of tears.

Fed up of the stuffy classrooms, laughing peers and Steve.

Eddie was waiting for you in his usual spot, leaning against his van with a cigarette in his mouth.

You couldn’t wait to get inside the van and light a joint, soft rain began to patter across the grounds. Making you rush towards the van even quicker.

“Sweetheart” Eddie grinned, flicking his cigarette away.

Trying to smile back at him felt uncomfortable, taking a second to breathe before climbing next to him in the van.

Th engine rattled to life, Eddie sped out of the car park and drove until he reached the usual smoking spot.

Quieting the music, pinching the joint between his lips when he turned to face you.

“So are you going to tell me what is wrong?” He asked before starting the blunt.

You refused to answer, not wanting to admit to Eddie that you felt for Steve’s “tricks”.

Eddie turned the music up as he passed the blunt between you both. Watching the rain and you relax into the seat his van, just like you always did.

After a while, the silence got louder and you sighed. The blunt was out and you were more relaxed.

“I overheard Steve telling his friends that his reputation would be ruined by dating me” you said sadly.

Avoiding Eddie’s eyes, you focused on the individual raindrops sliding down the window pane.

His hand touched yours, resting on top of your thigh. He didn’t speak for a second.

“Sweetheart, you shouldn’t listen to him” his hand moved up your body to your face, turning you to look at him.

Tears dropped from your eyes as you stared at him, he wiped them away.

“I can’t help it, I truly believed him” you shuddered.

Dropping your head to stare at your lap, not needing his sympathy any longer.

“I know but that is not your fault” he said softly, his face was inches away from yours.

You could smell his cologne against his chest, the weed smoke was still floating through the van.

He looked so pretty against the sunset, you had never noticed it before.

“Can we go home Eddie?” You squeaked, breaking the moment.

“Of course Sweetheart” he nodded, turning away to start the van.

You pushed yourself up against the van window, watching Hawkins flash by your window as the music played.

Eddie parked on your driveway, your parents loved his company. Despite them rarely being there, they trusted him with you.

So as Eddie took his usual spot against your bedroom wall, your mixed emotions began to stir.

Still feeling rather heartbroken over Steve, you placed a tape into the VHS box and turned on your TV.

Jumping onto the bed next to Eddie, your hands almost touching as you stared at the film in front of you.

Neither of you spoke throughout the film, it was nice not to think of anything. Resting your head against his shoulder, it was always like this with Eddie.

It was easy but with Steve. You found yourself trying too hard, feeling the need to get his approval.

But you already had that with Eddie.

Not realising that you had fallen asleep until Eddie’s voice and gentle shake startled you.

“Sweetheart, im going to go home.” He smiled at you.

Groggily, you ventured downstairs with Eddie. As he leant into his van, his face was inches away from yours.

“See you around Angel” he smiled at you.

As you tilted your head to look at him, your mouth parted as your eyes flickered to his lips.

Unsure if it was lack of sleep or Steve’s dismissal but there was something about Eddie tonight.

You found yourself edging closer to him, wanting to kiss him.

So when he met you, his lips touching yours. You felt powerful, they were soft and tender.

Moving perfectly with yours as his hands cupped your face, you melted into him.

Too distracted to even hear a car pull up, he kissed you passionately enough that you didn’t hear Steve’s yelp.

When you pulled away, rather dazzled. Cheeks and lips stained red, it wasn’t at the last minute that you noticed Steve.

And suddenly everything came crashing down.

Eddie was already preparing to leave your drive when you walked over to Steve.

“I’m glad you aren’t upset anymore” Steve said bitterly.

“Why would it matter to you Steve?” You sighed at him.

“I don’t know, I upset you” he shrugged at you.

He had returned to his car, Eddie had left a few moments before leaving you and Steve together.

“You only entertain me because I fancied you, you like to be liked Steve” you said bluntly.

“We could still be friends” he asked naively.

You laughed at him, stepping back so that he could get into his car.

“Eddie is the only friend I want, goodbye Steve” you smirked at him.

Moving closer to the front door, you watched him glumly disappear from your driveway. Only feeling sad that Eddie had to leave.

You weren’t sure if you always had hidden feelings for him or that you needed to be let down by Steve to realise it.

Whatever it was, you were happy to be rid of him.

Once upstairs, you pulled the telephone extension into your bedroom. Pressing play onto the film earlier, you punched in the number that was burnt into your phone.

It rang for a second before his voice echoed on the other side of the phone.

“How was he?” You could hear him drinking on the other side.

“He kept his promise not to kiss me” you bit your lip.

Playing with the cord with your fingers,

“Good, I think that I should be the one to do that now” he took a sip of his drink.

“Good night Eddie” you grinned at his comment.

“Good night Sweetheart” he whispered to you.

His nickname for you always made your chest flutter but you buried it deep inside you.

Not wanting to admit that you liked anyone else but Steve.

Though as you laid there in bed, you wondered if you even truly liked Steve or if it was a habit you couldn’t break.

Eddie had always been there, distantly by your side. As you went through high school, he didn’t talk about you to his friends like Steve did.

His eyes didn’t roll as you approached him, his smile was bright and wide.

The Devil and the Angel was what you were called and you suddenly felt okay with letting Steve go.

#steve harrington #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader fluff #eddie munson x female character #eddie munson x plus size reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n fluff #steve harrington x fem!reader #stranger things #steve x reader #steve x female reader #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x reader

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cs-fox · 19 days ago

Text

FOXHOUND | GHOST X FEM!READER PART 7

we have a proper cover now !!

excited ??

part 6 ______________________________________________________________

Training. It was something you’d experienced every day in the military, but not like this.

Demolitions with the friendly Scottish sergeant. Fitness with Sergeant Garrick. And, of course, your favourite part of the day -

Sparring with Ghost.

You often recounted your sessions with the Lieutenant in a hushed voice over drinks with Soap in the common room. Ghost was a little - intense, in your frequent matches. Of course - the man was quite protective (possessive, but you refused to admit that to yourself) of you, but even after that time together during the tracking drill a week ago, you struggled to get a read on him.

He was strong and often silent, choosing to watch you from a distance - but the second a recruit started to get bold, he’d be there, standing over your shoulder like a huge shadow -

‘Move on if you want ta keep your teeth in your mouth, eh?’

It infuriated you, to say the least. Did he care? Or were you just some meaningless obsession he’d drop eventually, like a dog finding a brand new toy?

And to top it all off - the thought of another woman taking your place made your blood boil.

When you presented this idea to Soap - who seemed worried about his Lieutenant’s obsession over you - he’d give a sort of grimace.

‘I dunno, lassie. Might ‘ave tae ask ‘im.’

Yeah, okay, Soap. Let’s see if that has any worth.

Now, you stood outside of the massive mahogany door marking Ghost’s quarters, sweating in your singlet, wondering if this was such a good idea after all.

Before you knocked, a deep, gruff voice floated out from under the door. ‘Come on in, Fox.’

You opened the door, swallowing thickly as you saw him perched on the edge of his mattress, wearing nothing but sweatpants. His dog tags bounced off that lean and muscular chest as he stood up, moving to close the door behind you.

‘How’d you know it was me?’

‘I’d know those shallow little breaths anywhere, luv.’

You nodded, taking in this new information.

‘So - what’re you ‘ere for, sweet’eart?’

No turning back now.

‘Um…’ Ghost raised his eyebrows impatiently, somehow managing to look more attractive, a feat which had heat rising to your face.

‘Well - you keep acting so protective of me - and then, well, breaking conduct - ahem - so I was wondering if I should be - be worried about… about…’ you quailed under his hazel brown gaze. ‘About feelings being involved…’

Fuck, you had to go and mess it up, didn’t you? You thought furiously, fighting the embarrassed blush rising to your cheeks.

Ghost stood in silence for so long you took a step back, muttering apologies and making to leave -

A hand fell onto your waist, pulling you against him, and eliciting a gasp from you.

‘Why d’you say… worried abou’ feelings?’ he asked quietly.

‘I…’ you gulped. ‘I meant… you don’t… have any, do you?’

Ghost froze, you felt it, hands leaving your body and falling limp at his sides. Shit -

‘You’re nosy, for a rookie,’ he snarled, shoving you away. ‘Get out of my sight.’

Before you knew it, you were back in the hallway, flushed and angry.

Sort yourself out, you bastard.

______________________________________________________________

angst ??

denial ??

this is getting interesting………………………….

PART 8 GANG ?? @ghostindeath

#call of duty #fanfiction #oneshot #cod #ghost #call of duty oneshot #fanfic #simon riley #ghost x reader #x reader #call of duty ghost

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fettuccin-e · 2 years ago

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The Encore Performance

hello gang,, i wrote this so fucking long ago,, and it is not my greatest work but every time i open up my google docs this piece stares at me judgementally, yelling and screaming to be released to the world (it was written during peak eddie munson era in a fit of horniness, so maybe july 2022) pls enjoy the pwp

Tags: Eddie Munson x Reader, oral sex (f!recieving), fem!reader, exhibitionism, eddie is kind of a perv in this sorry

Eddie’s eyes have been on you all night, fingers moving absentmindedly across the frets of his guitar. It’s like you want to drive him completely insane, your tits bouncing in your tiny little dress as you bang your head to the music, your glistening body bathed in the purple light of the club.

The air feels electric, charged and volatile; so different from the dingy yellow lighting of the Hideout. A new venue, a new crowd, and they’re fucking loving it. Eddie should be pandering to these new fans, trying to keep the band’s spot and maybe make these gigs a regular thing. Instead, his eyes are trained unwaveringly on you, his pretty, pretty girlfriend, supporting him and dancing to his music.

He has to spend the entire set rock hard under his jeans, grateful for the presence of his guitar over the obvious bulge of his cock.

The crowd still goes nuts after their last song, pleading for another encore, but Eddie’s frantic in trying to discreetly adjust himself before helping the guys put the stage equipment away. He knows how he must look, face sweaty and flushed, hair frazzled around his face. He hopes he can blame it on the adrenaline from the show and not how fucking horny he is.

He turns from placing an amp in Gareth’s truck to see you; giggling as you talk to one of the bartenders, your skin straining against the tight fabric of your dress. And though Eddie knows that you probably aren’t flirting, and that you’d definitely never cheat on him, he also sees how the bartender’s eyes are staring much lower on your body than where your eyes are, wiping off a glass slowly and deliberately. Eddie knows that you’d lay this guy out before he could try anything, but he also can’t help how his vision goes red as he stalks over.

“Eddie!” You smile when he finally gets to you, snuggling into his side while he puts a strong arm around your waist. “Jake,” you say, looking back at the bartender, “this is Eddie, my boyfriend. Eddie,” you look up at him with those big eyes he loves so much, “this is Jake.”

Eddie smiles at Jake, or tries to smile, it may come out more like a grimace, but doesn’t offer any kind of reply. Jake’s eyes widen minutely at the sight of him, and Eddie loves how he takes a small step back. Perks of being the Hawkins "devil worshipper" he guesses.

Jake’s eyes are suddenly anywhere but you, and Eddie struggles against the urge to snarl at him. He glances down at you to see your eyes furrow slightly in confusion, picking up on the fact that there’s definitely something wrong with your boyfriend.

“Baby,” Eddie says, squeezing the fat of your hip, “I gotta talk to you real quick, ‘s that alright?”

“Yeah, of course, Eds,” you say, and turn back to Jake. “Look, it was really nice meeting you, Jake. You have a good night, okay?” Jake mutters a quiet, "yeah, you too,” before turning away to wipe at a glass a little too harshly to be normal. But Eddie’s already dragging you away with the arm he has around your waist, bypassing the back door of the club to pull you down a long hallway.

“Eddie, what’s going o-” you try to say, but are swiftly cut off by Eddie’s lips on yours, his long body pressing you into the wall. You gasp into his mouth as his big hands slide from your hips down to the backs of your thighs, lifting them up to wrap around his waist.

“Jesus Christ, baby, you tryin’ to drive me insane out there?” he mutters into your mouth, pressing the obscene bulge in his jeans against the heat of your pussy through your thin panties. “Wearing this tight little dress, looking like a fucking whore, got everyone out there looking at you. But you’re mine, aren’t you baby? All fucking mine.”

All you can do is whimper softly in response, barely having the presence of mind to remember that there are people barely twenty feet away, people who could easily walk down this hallway and see what Eddie has reduced you to. Eddie pulls back from your plush lips to look at you, and then smirks like the bastard he is.

“You think you could stay quiet for me, pretty girl?” Eddie whispers, and doesn’t wait for a response before he’s gripping your thighs again while he drops to his knees, eye-level with your clothed cunt. He sets one of your feet on the ground to keep you standing while he hooks your other thigh over his shoulder, leaving you open and exposed, just for him.

“Eddie, I don’t-” you cut yourself off with a gasp when Eddie pulls your panties to the side and licks a long stripe up your dripping pussy. You clap a hand over your mouth as your eyes clench shut and your thighs tremble.

Eddie smiles up at you, his pretty girl, already wrecked from just the touch of his mouth. He keeps his fingers hooked into your panties, and finally allows himself to dive in, just like he’s been imagining since you walked out in your little dress.

You can’t hold back the whines echoing in the back of your throat as Eddie plunges his tongue deep into your pussy, the hardness of his nose pressing into your clit. Stay quiet stay quiet stay quiet. You’re trying to repeat the command in your head, but it’s so fucking difficult when Eddie shakes his head from side to side, starving for it. The movement makes his nose rub back and forth across your clit, and your hips jerk hard against his face, your free hand winding into Eddie’s thick hair.

“Eddie, Eddie, someone’s gonna hear baby, they’re gonna see, oh god,” you whisper softly, and you can feel the vibrations of Eddie’s quiet groans into your cunt.

You whimper softly when he pulls away from you to whisper, “then you better make yourself cum, pretty girl. The faster you cum, the faster I can take you home and fuck you properly.”

He dives in once again, this time wrapping his lips around your throbbing clit and sucking. You whine like a fucking animal, hips bucking and swiveling, trying to get away, trying to get closer. Eddie’s hands come up to grip tight onto your hips, his rings digging sharply into your flesh, and you relish in the idea of seeing harsh bruises in the shape of his fingertips tomorrow morning.

You can feel the knot in your stomach getting tighter and tighter, almost painful with the need to cum. Your head snaps to the end of the hallway, and you see all of the people walking through the club, dancing and drinking. People who have no idea that Eddie’s eating your pussy with your dress hitched up and your panties pulled to the side. People who have no idea that you’re always so desperate for Eddie, that you’d let him fuck you any time, any place. They have no idea that you’re going to cum all over his face, and he’s going to walk out there with his messy hair and pretty eyes and your juices still on his lips, oh god-

You desperately suck air into your lungs to stave off your scream as you cum, pussy clenching and dripping all over Eddie’s face, your hips shaking uncontrollably.

“Eddie, Eddie, oh my god, Eddie, I can’t, I can’t, ‘s too much,” you whisper into the quiet of the hallway, the obscene sounds of Eddie licking at your cunt thundering in your ears. You can tell Eddie doesn’t want to stop, he never does, but you think you’ll start crying if he keeps going. You tug his hair roughly, wrenching him away from your cunt.

“Please, please kiss me, baby,” you whine, and Eddie can only nod at you, his face flushed and his lips puffy and shiny. Your thigh falls off his shoulder as he stands up to capture your lips in a filthy kiss. He tastes like cigarettes, beer and your pussy.

Eddie keeps holding onto your hips as they twitch with the aftershocks of your orgasm. Your eyes feel heavy, your brain mushy and weak.

“My beautiful girl, shit, all mine, y’look so pretty like this baby,” Eddie’s whispering, sneaking little kisses onto your lips in between words. “You wanna get out of here baby? C’mon, let’s get home, yeah?” You nod blearily, going to step forward, but your knees stay locked.

“Eddie,” you whisper, your foggy eyes going wide. “I don’t think I can move my legs.”

You watch Eddie’s brows furrow, and his lips perk up. He stares at your face, all flushed and flustered, and a snort escapes his nose. Soon enough, little giggles are escaping his lips, delirious and endlessly smug.

“Don’t laugh!” You whine, nuzzling your red face into his chest.

Eddie runs a comforting hand down your back as he tamps down his giggles. “Sorry baby, I’m sorry. It’s just, y’know, not many guys can say they’ve literally made their girl cum so hard they couldn’t walk.” You whine again, but Eddie shushes you gently. “Don’t worry, I’m gonna get you home, sweet pea.”

You don’t have time to wonder what he means by that before Eddie reaches down to cup one hand under your knees, the other staying under your back, and lifts you into his arms with a soft grunt.

“Eddie!” You squeak, but your boyfriend is already walking out towards the club again, paying no mind to the throngs of people still moving around you both. You tuck your burning face into his neck, giggling nearly hysterically, as Eddie whisks you away. You think you’d let him take you anywhere.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x y/n #eddie munson smut #stranger things x you #stranger things x reader #stranger things smut

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what-have-i-unleashed · 2 months ago

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UTMV WRITING MASTERLIST

(because i write too much and don't know when to shut up or organize my blog smh)

all my "complete" writings should be tagged #i write

i do have some series that are also tagged:

🐟🐇 mermaid bunny au: a doomed kist story where dust's one-sided affections for killer turns toxic. loosely based on many mermaid mythologies and iconographies, as well as other fairy tales and folklores -- tagged #fic: mermaid bunny

the concept post that starts it all. and its continuation.

dating start! - cross takes dust on a date per nightmare's order.

the debriefing - what happens after the date.

in your eyes - the new killer has some difficult time sleeping.

when the fog thickens, blurring one's sight - a look into dust's irregular dream.

rivers of red - killer has a one-sided argument with dust.

🛜 netverse:

an alternate multiverse focused on mtt poly where murder is a true crime mukbang micro-celebrity, killer is a serial killer, and horror is a somewhat well-adjusted park ranger. mostly in conceptual phase right now -- tagged #netverse or #murder mukbang au (when focused on murder)

bump in the night - murder and killer have their meet-disaster.

you'll never take the blame like me - killer sees a familiar face. he's not happy about it.

❤️ bitter end:

an alternate multiverse with a more supernatural twist to it. will be expanded upon as the story progresses. this is a series of longer fics so i'm putting it up on ao3 instead of here. slow updates because i want to make this one good.

are you satisfied with an average life - about a dusttale sans in the bad sans gang -- tagged #fic: are you satisfied

also includes my own golden thread au, mostly focused on frisk and chara -- tagged #golden thread au

🪽 the angel: an interactive fic where killer goes through the most surreal day of his life -- tagged #fic: the angel

one - two - three - four - five - six - seven - intermission - ???

ao3

📝 other writings:

all my other writings that don't necessarily fit in any au

a happy life - set in something new au. about killer and chara.

i dream of one so far away, far away - cross and killer in a twisted fluffy relationship.

figure by the window - blue and dream encounter a weird sighting.

don't feed the hungry spirit - dream-eater nightmare fulfills a request from an insomniac dusttale sans.

will love come to me someday? - unhinged love triangle between the murder time trio.

just a quick stop - fluffy kist meets multiversal travel mishaps.

your hand-grenade heart - cross comes across a place he didn't expect to see again.

the sweetest poison - murder makes a grievous mistake with crow.

chasing infinity - killer has always waited for this moment to happen, and all that comes after.

kinda miniseries of cross being bullied by the murder time trio (rip to him):

a little trust exercise - horror and cross do a little trust exercise.

stealth lesson - a little play of hide-and-seek between cross and the murder time trio.

dining etiquette - killer teaches cross how to eat like a proper henchman of nightmare.

🎯 challenges:

i have a series of challenges where i take requests, which include:

#flash fic spotify challenge

#flash fic spotify challenge: mtt ver.

⚠️ all my 18+ writings will be labelled mature and under this tag #certified freaky post (please don't access this if you're a minor. i prefer if you block it too. thank you.)

dividers by @\k1ssyoursister here

#my masterlist #will probably post some on ao3 when i polish them to my liking

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itadorist · 2 years ago

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Broo, imagine if breeding season effected itto omgomgomg, like imagine oni's having ruts and when they go into they're ruts the become super possessive and like.

Voyeurism, itto fucking you in front of his gang to remind them that your his lover, his marriage partner, his breeding hole, he's just all over you, fucking you deeply in a alley while forcing his gang to watch so they remember who you belong too. Sobbing rn, I need him smm.

Tagging @heizhoed Because her itto complex is... there is none like her. ft. Breeding kink, fem!reader, possession sex, voyeurism, itto being feral.

Absolutely. it has been such a rough week due to how badly mating season has effected itto. Every chance he'd obtain, he'd find some place, some time to pull you somewhere and fuck you. You didn't mind, especially knowing that if you didn't help him then it could result in him hurting physically.

He tried to be gentle. Itto isn't oblivious to his size, he's so much bigger than you are and he has to be gentle because using even a little too much strength could hurt you. He doesn't wanna hurt you because he loves his cute little wife so much :( — it isn't until he sees one of his puny gang members making moves on you from the distance that he can't help but get riled up. His breeding urges had already been eating him alive all week, but seeing someone even dare to speak to you with such a desiring glint in they're eye is what makes him act on them.

The next morning he doesn't hesitate to call a gang meeting, only to pull you into the nearest alleyway and fuck you against the strongly built wall that belonged to some irrelevant noodle shop. He tells, no— Demands that his gang watches him brutalize your innocent cunny.

His large palms cupping your ass while he slides his huge cock into your stretched pussy, it isn't easy — he's so big' n thick that it takes a couple of thrusts to get the tip to penetrate your hole cause that's just how big the oni is. once he manages to finally fit into your drooling pussy, he takes off — drilling his large cock into your aching cunt without a hint of remorse.

"You see?" itto snarled at his gang members, unintentionally baring his teeth while focusing on nothing but the way your tiny cunt stretched around his large dick, his huge dick that had you frozen against the wall. "Nobody can fuck her like i can."

The feeling of his cock rubbing against your gummy, tight walls and stretching them as well has you weak in the legs, thighs quivering at the way your boyfriend is so fully determined to fuck you until he's positive your full of nothing but his seed. The only thing on itto's mind is breeding you until your round and big with his kids. "Itto, baby — you gotta slow down, my legs are getting tired!" You sobbed, helplessly as he dug the tip of his messy cock deeper, ignoring your protest.

"You feelin' me in your tummy?" He asked, squeezing your ass for a response —in response you nodded, too ashamed of how much your enjoying this side of itto, how possessive he is. Your too shy to glance over and see the reaction of the arataki gang, although your positive they're getting off on watching they're huge boss pound his little wife's pussy, not missing a beat.

You begun feeling dizzy and weak, you can feel the little knot in your tummy untying itself, your about to cum — and judging by how itto's movements are getting so unorganized and sloppy, he's about to spill his load as well.

"m'gonna cum inside you, okay pretty baby?" He growls into your ear, breathlessly as his cock begun to twitch, it wasn't long before you had succumb to your orgasm, letting out a whine at the strong feeling of euphoria that overtook your little abused body — followed by itto's orgasm, a thick pearly cum oozing out of your stuffed pussy and staining the alleyway concrete below.

"Mine." were his only words, glancing back to look at his gang members. He certainly wasn't wrong, although once you catch your breath, you should let him know that the member who you were talking to earlier was just asking if itto was doing alright.

Xyhoo· · · · ✦ ― please do not copy, translate, modify or repost any of my work on any platform, or claim any of it as your own. 03/06/2023 - 2:55 am.

#『xyhoo's lingo』 ✦#—Xyhoothirsts ❀#arataki itto smut #arataki itto #genshin arataki #arataki itto x reader #itto arataki #arataki itto thirsts #genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact smut #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact arataki itto #Genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact fanfiction #genshin impact fanfic

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creepling · 1 year ago

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⛧°｡⋆༺♱༻⋆｡°⛧ you make lovin' fun - l. mckinney / 4k

synopsis. after admiring julie from afar at a college party, leland lays off and enjoys the rest of the night. only he’s sitting in a room with that metalhead that intimidates him and ends up having a night that changes the trajectory of his love life.

tags. smut - MINORS DNI. gender neutral, metalhead!reader. no use of y/n. stoner!danny gaines. drug use (weed). mild alcohol use. smoking. black cat x golden retreiver energy. unrequited love. one night stand. oral (male receiving). friends with benefits ending. possible part two???

Leland did not want to come off as a creep by any means, but he didn’t want to pass his chances at talking to the girl of his dreams. Yet, Leland wasn’t the only one crushing on Julie Crawford. She was a magnet for men and women alike. Surrounded in admiration and love, her energy is addictive and radiating. She was the life of the party and dare anyone to have her all to themselves and ruin the vibes. Leland kept to the walls, admiring her from afar, asking the odd person about her in casual conversation. “She’s a total babe,” one girl said, Leland assuming in a platonic way. Her friends were her guardian angels, interfering with prying men and keeping the conversation light. Anytime a guy took his shot, Julie’s friends were by her side, changing their course to the beer keg or smoking outside. Anything to protect her, to gossip and giggle at the men who thought they stood a chance. And with that, Leland saved himself from embarrassment, sipping his beer and enjoying the company that he had.

Sonny bailed at midnight. He said something about having to study before lectures. Leland only nodded and hugged him goodbye; there was no stopping Sonny and his academic determination. That left Danny as the last guy friend, but Leland needed to figure out where he was or if he even was at the party. Maria invited him when he could since he wasn’t a student, and most people liked him around for his weed. Speaking of weed, maybe Leland should find him. He’s feeling up for it.

“You seen Danny?” Leland asked Maria, finding her in the backyard. An idle smile on her face, a blazing joint between her fingers. Oh yeah, he is here.

“Try upstairs. He said something about feeling cold and needing to lie down,” Maria said, quickly returning to her conversation. Leland headed forth, downing the rest of his beer and dumping the solo cup in a trash can, ready to motion into a different head space.

Leland cautiously tried every room upstairs, preparing to walk in on people having sex. He got lucky and entered the second room with a polite knock, welcomed by the overwhelming smell of incense—tapestries galore on the walls, carpets softening the ground. Whoever’s room this was, they made it into the perfect smoking room. Leland discovered Danny lying in pure bliss in the sea of blankets and pillows underneath bed veils—an amused smile on his face.

“Danny,” Leland cooed, concealing a laugh. “Dude, wake up.”

Danny opened his eyes halfway, and his face faded. His smile grew wider at the sight of Leland. “How ya doin’, man? Great party, I feel fucking amazing.”

“That’s good to hear,” Leland chuckled, “You got anything left?”

Leland thought it wasn’t possible, but Danny's smile grew larger, his hand digging into his jeans pocket. “You bet I do,”

Danny humfed his body upwards, shuffling to the end of the bed where a weed tray lay. Leland took his place next to him, trying to act casual. He is good friends with most of the gang but still feels the need to act older than he was, being the youngest. They never looked down on him, and it still amazes him he made friends with the seniors as a college freshman. If his mother knew about it, she’d have a canary fit.

While Danny was preparing a joint, Leland noticed the person in the corner of the room for the first time. Danny caught his staring, following his gaze, a jolt of fright taking over him.

“Damn you, are you still sitting there? Fuck, you can be real scary sometimes.”

There you were, in all your intimidating glory, two stubs of a joint in an ashtray, a book in your hand. Eyes are dark, heavy, and smokey with liner. Your dark clothes blend into the shadows of the dimly lit room.

“Someone had to look out for you in case you choked on your vomit,” you remarked stoically. Danny nodded at the reasonability, flattered by the protection.

“Why you not down with the rest of the party?” Leland mustered the courage to ask, prepared for your cold gaze. Out of all the group, you were the one Leland felt the most distance from. You were kind of a shut-off, aloof, kept to yourself. Connie insisted that you're an absolute sweetheart once someone gets to know you. Yet, you looked ready to bite his head off whenever Leland conversed with you.

“‘Cause they’re not playing ‘Sabbath, I bet,” Danny teased, rolling the joint in his fingers. “Did I ever tell you if you were in Cali, you’d live in Spahn Ranch?”

You narrowed your eyes, “Fuck you,” dropping the book you were browsing and pulling out a pack of cigarettes, “I think you forget it was hippies like you that did that fucked up shit,”

Danny grinned, “Yeah, and your lot are eating bat heads. My apologies.”

Leland thought an argument would break out until the sound of laughter soothed his worries. It was the first time Leland saw you smile, somewhat allured by it. He’d like to see you do it more often; it was a pretty smile.

Leland tried not to stare at you too much while you smoked, your eyes scanning the two men. From Leland’s perspective, it looked like you were sizing them up, and he shuffled in his seat. You must have noticed this because a smirk grew on your face.

Danny finished his first joint and passed it along with a lighter to Leland. Leland thanked him, perking it between his lips. As he lit the end, he sucked in its flame, dropping the lighter and exhaling the smoke.

Time passed, and the night was slowing down, a muffled ambience as the room became another dimension from the party. Danny left at some point, probably back to Maria, so she didn’t start to worry, and you took your role as mediator for Leland, chilling in his hazy state. You were high, too, but all it did was relax you, its side effects not hitting you like a ton of bricks. You stick a record on the turntable, keeping the volume low, relighting a new incense stick and keeping an eye on Leland idle on the bean bag across from you, his eyes staring into space. A tug of a smile was visible on his face as he heard the hum of the music, motioning his hand to turn it up. You turned it one notch higher, amused at his state.

“This okay?” You ask. It was a song you can tolerate. Seeing Leland nod along with it was amusing enough, and you sat in the spare bean bag next to him.

With the proximity, Leland realised it was only the two of you together. He thought about Julie, wondering where she was and how she was enjoying her night. Then he looked at you. Instead of his heart sinking, it was beating faster.

“Connie was right about you,” Leland drawled, a smile on his face.

You frown, then scoff, surprised anyone is talking about you. Sure, Connie was your friend, an unexpected one at that. When you came to college, you expected not to make any friends. “Oh yeah? What’s Connie saying about me?”

Leland gathered his words together, his brain slower than usual. You watch the gears turn in his head, trying not to relish in it too much. There was something so endearing about him in this state. He looked less like a jerk, which was how you view any guy who peaked in high school. Leland was your run-of-the-mill popular guy, trying to continue his legacy in college and failing miserably. You knew he was a wrestler but dropped out before graduating, losing out on the scholarship and having to build from the ground up. His parents might have been pissed off about that, but there was something about it you admired. It showed hard work, determination, and ‘following your dreams’. It’s one of the first things you liked about him.

“Connie said… You’re a nice person once you get past the hard exterior,” Leland articulated, freezing when he saw your still face.

“Didn’t you think I was a nice person before?” You glared at him.

Leland began stumbling over his words, trying to defend himself. You burst into laughter. And there it was, that smile you showed before that stopped Leland in his tracks. It could win awards and make people faint and applaud. He couldn’t help but stare at you longer than he should.

“Well, right there is the evidence. You have a habit of… How should I say it? Pushing people away?” Leland pondered, “That sounds rude, sorry-”

You wanted to object, but he was right. It’s a habit of yours. You’re used to judgement and ridicule. It’s better to keep people at arm's length to avoid it. It saves all the hurt that comes with it. “Like usual, Connie is right. You have nothing to say sorry for,”

The look in your eyes told a thousand stories. Leland sensed this is something you feel to your core, a plague waiting to be lifted. How much could happen in one night? Is it enough to convince you you are deserving of admiration? Maybe it was the weed, but he had so much to give.

“Y’know, before tonight, I was like everyone else. I was so intimidated by you. Not only because I was scared of you but because you’re the coolest person in any room you enter. You defy everything, all the bullshit we have to conform to. I always assumed you don’t care what people think of you,” Leland argued.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, not at Leland, but how the compliments he voices are the very problem why you can’t connect with people. You’re not the person they bring home to meet the parents. You’re not the person authority approves of. Assumptions about you are thrown towards you in every corner, and trying to dodge them gets tiring.

“That’s my problem, though. I am everything you said, but I care what people think about me. I just want someone to like me how I am,” your words almost turn into a whisper, the vulnerability making you feel out of place. You never expected to be like this with any guy, let alone Leland.

He looked at you momentarily, debating the move he was yearning to make. But was it the right thing to do? You began sheltering again, patronised by his puppy dog eyes. In a desperate moment, he reached for your hand, cupping it in yours. His thumb caressed your knuckles, and he felt your fingertips coil against his hand.

“Don’t,” you warned, yanking your hand out of his grasp. Leland furrowed his brows.

“Why?” Was Leland’s only question, his eyes refusing to leave your averting gaze.

“I’m not dumb, McKinney. You have no right to go all lover boy on me. You like Julie, and only Julie,” you made eye contact with him, your eyes cold and stern.

Leland looked at you as if to say, ‘How did you know that?’ and you sighed.

“Everyone knows, dumbass. You make it so obvious.”

Leland bowed his head, a blush creeping up his neck, and he rubbed the nape to soothe its burning sensation. Now he’s hyper-aware of his predicament, making you feel like a rebound or a second choice. Guilt washes over him, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. Maybe it’s the weed. I’m just not thinking straight.”

Your gaze softens, but you shrug your shoulders, and another sigh leaves your lips. “Have you ever tried getting over her? Like, fucking other people?”

Leland looked at you like you had two heads. “No, never. Flings are not my thing,” he said, shutting down the absurdity.

You couldn’t help but laugh, your smile down-turning. Leland melted at the sight of it once again. “You’re in college and looking for a future wife? Dude, this is the time to experiment! ‘Beats staring at Julie all night and feeling sorry for yourself. Let off some steam. You can like who you like but still have fun. She’s probably doing the same. In fact, I know Julie, she’s definitely doing the same,”

Leland was torn between relief and heartbreak at the information, the thought of her with another clawing at his feelings, but knowing if he takes your advice, he won’t be seen as different if the chance with Jules comes. He ignores his internal conflict and turns to you, “Is that what you do?”

You debate on answering that question, wanting to keep the information private. “Yes, I do. Sure, I have crushes, people I wanna be with. But I also don’t wanna follow them around like a lost puppy, especially when they don’t like me back.” Was that right? Did you make it too obvious? You looked at the very man you were talking about, reassured by his oblivious stare that had a hint of tenderness. You tried not to let it draw you in, your gaze darting away from Leland’s soft features—the warmth of his skin, the glint in his eye. If you were Julie, you’d take him in a heartbeat. You kept your face in its familiar stoic stance, but Leland saw a flicker of softness in your eye. Throughout the conversation, he noticed you were glaring at him less, as if you were warming up to him. He didn’t know what to think, so he moved on to his next question. “So… should I go out there and hook up with someone? See if it changes my mind?” Leland was hesitant, biting his lip in thought.

Your thoughts got the best of you, and so did Leland’s. Now, looking at each other was like looking directly at the sunlight. “Or you could just stay here… with me.”

Working you out made Leland feel he was reading a book in another language. He couldn’t help but scoff, shifting his body to face you directly, smirking. “A minute ago, you weren’t up for that idea.”

You rolled your eyes, admitting defeat but still sitting defiant. This back-and-forth was complicated but intriguing. “Well, now I’ve changed my mind. You need help getting over Julie, and I need to work on not pushing people away.”

Leland was questioning your intentions, wondering how sincere it was. His heart was racing, and he cursed his bodily reactions, biting his cheek in response to the blush on his face.

You rise from the bean bag, Leland’s eyes following you, craning his neck to look up at you. You stood over him, hands on either side of your hips. There was a seductiveness to the darkness looming over you. Leland shifts in his seat, his eyes lingering on your figure.

“Besides, we both need to loosen up in our own little ways. Maybe we can help each other,” you say, liking how Leland looked at you. You’ve wanted him to look at you like that for a long time—a stare mixed with longing and bashfulness. You had to admit, it was cute.

You gently steady your thighs on either side of Leland’s hips, placing yourself onto his lap, studying his face for any sign of rejection. You would adhere to his objections, but you manifested he only encouraged you. You wished for him to like you just as much as you like him. You weren’t ready to confess to him, so you suggested this predicament. It’s casual enough to come across as a one-off thing, with no feelings attached, but passionate enough to find pleasure in this unique twist of fate. Hooking up with him, at this moment, was the only chance you might get before he moved on to pursue Julie, so you felt like enjoying it while you could.

Leland rested his hands on your waist, reigning your body with his, glancing from your smokey eyes to your lips. He was surprised to feel the warmth he would typically protest in his core. Leland was honest when he said he wasn’t the type of guy to have one-night stands. All his sexual encounters involved someone he loved. He likes you, of course. He likes the way you look at him and how you make him feel. But love can’t happen overnight, surely not. He loved Julie the minute he laid eyes on her. With you, it feels . . .

Leland became distanced from his thoughts at the sensation of your lips meeting his, soft and passionate, ceiling the tension between you into a physical reality. Your hands brush the hairs on his neck, cupping his soft skin and sending goosebumps down his spine with your cold touch. Leland instinctively wraps his arms around you, his hand snaking up your back underneath your shirt and onto your bare skin. You gasp between his lips. Your eyes flicker open momentarily. The passionate stare in your gaze ignites a fire in him, his breath heavy in the hot air.

Leland’s butterflies crescendo in his stomach as you motion lower and lower down his body. Trailing kisses down his neck, his breath hitching at the odd nip of his skin between your teeth. You peer up at him teasingly, and Leland anticipates your steps. You seemed like the type to be unpredictable, and Leland’s body tenses under yours, making you slow down and unbutton his shirt, leaving soft kisses.

“Don’t worry, I can be gentle,” You reassured, relaxing your coiled smile and giving a genuine look of understanding. “You don’t have to be scared of me,”

“You don’t have any… weird fetishes, do you?” Leland asked, just in case.

You couldn’t help but laugh, sliding his shirt open and exposing his abdomen, trying your hardest not to freak out at the sight of his lean muscles. Your fingers trace his snail trail, your eyes catching the presence of his bare chest. It was rare nowadays to see a well-groomed man. And consistently, Leland defies your expectations. “Maybe I do, maybe I don’t. I’ll keep it light, just for you.” You tease.

“Yeah, I’d like that. This is nice,” Leland chuckled, relieved of his worries.

You continue to unbuckle the belt on his jeans, unbuttoning loose enough to tug his bottoms down his legs. You hooked your fingers over his boxers along with it, anticipating the reveal. Leland helped you with his jeans, lifting his hips to run them down. His hard dick springs into place, resting below his stomach, the tip inches away from his belly button. His length kindles a look of mischief in your eyes, and Leland notices it when he looks for your reaction.

“You’re full of surprises, McKinney.” You purr.

“Really?”

“Oh, stop humbling yourself,” you tut, relishing in his awe as you trailed your fingers down his shaft, wrapping your digits around his girth. Warming him up, you teased the tip with your tongue, arousing Leland with your alluring stare. He brushed your hair from your face, caressing his fingers along your jawline, eyes lulling at the breathtaking sight of you.

You took him pretty well, taking Leland aback, the sensation tensing his muscles. With the afterthought of weed, and the feeling of your slick, warm mouth engulfing his cock, it stirred a sense so blissful he grew lightheaded. Leland moaned your name, his tone so gentle and appreciative. His hands caressed your head, motioning with your steady pace, his fingers tightening in your locks when your tongue massaged his shaft. Every shift of his body was a thanks for the pleasure you gave him. And as your mouth adjusted to his length, you buried his cock deeper inside, gag nonexistent as his tip touched the back of your throat, your spit coating your plumped lips.

“Holy fucking shit,” Leland cursed, his whines heavy. “That feels amazing.”

He began to buck his lips, unable to help himself, addicted to the feeling of your mouth, completely enamoured. You allowed his eagerness, surprised at his gentle strokes, your moans muffled. Your jaw grew stiff, and you squeezed your eyes shut, but Leland was reading your mind, pulling out for you to gather air. You gasped, your head lightheaded, drunk on his precum, pooling on the base of your tongue. Like clockwork, you stuffed him back into your mouth, fully committed. Hollowing your cheeks, swirling your tongue, drawing his dick with your lips, from base to tip. It was driving Leland insane.

“Fuck, don’t stop,” he pleaded, “feels s’ good.”

Swelling with pride, you picked up the pace, breathing steadily through your nose. Pinning Leland’s thighs deeper into the bean bug, the crush of the fabric overshadowed by the gentle moans whispering from Leland’s lips, fighting the urge to ejaculate, the knot in his stomach swelling and ready to release.

“I think I’m gonna . . .” His face is scarlet. You rest a steady hand on his solid abdomen, the glisten of sweat collecting under your nails that dug into his skin. The pattern of his abs turning your brain to mush, heat collecting at your crotch at the act of pleasuring such a pretty, handsome boy. You gaze up at him under your lashes, succumbing to his brows furrowed together, his mouth agape, pulling such a cute face. Fuck, he was perfect.

Your quick pace soon brought Leland to a close, instinctively pushing your head down his length, coating your throat with his hot seed. He cursed under his breath at the overwhelming pleasure. He rutted out his high, loosening the grip on your hair.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so rough,” Leland chuckled nervously, hoping he didn’t piss you off.

You greeted him with a sly stare, tasting him on your tongue, swallowing his cum with one swift gulp, licking your lips clean. Leland pulled his jeans back on before helping you to your feet. You struggled to stand with your stiff knees, feeling Leland’s arms snake around your waist to keep you steady.

“How’d you like that then, lover boy?” You hesitantly ask, half expecting the post-nut clarity to hit him.

Leland thought for a moment, “I mean . . .” He chuckled, “Words can’t describe it.”

He still looked at you the same as before, if not more intensely. His grip on you never loosened. He cupped your face, brushing his thumb along your cheekbone, and you almost gave in to him.

“What about you? Don’t you think you deserve some love?” Leland airly said, a gentle smile on his face. He didn’t want the night to end.

“I think that’s enough for today,” You chuckle, pulling out of his embrace. You try to ignore the smile fading from his face, replaced with those sad puppy eyes that weaken you.

“C’mon, now I feel like a jerk,” Leland whined, walking after you, trying to block you from the door. “At least tell me the next time I’ll see you.”

“Oh, there’s gonna be a next time?” You cock your eyebrow. “What happened to just having a fling?”

“I told you that’s not my thing,” Leland teased, trying to contain his smile. You balance the smirk growing on your face by narrowing your eyes. “Let’s say next Friday? You free?”

It came as a surprise seeing him put in the effort. Most guys just finish and bail. You started to question if you bit off more than you could chew. He’ll bail once he has his chance with Julie. Or maybe his heart has turned in another direction. Heading straight towards you, gazing at you with those eyes you get lost in. No… You must keep your guard up, not get your hopes up.

“See you next week, lover boy. But don’t get all romantic with me, ok? Or I’ll puke on you.” You established, swinging the door open and swaggering out of the room, acting as casual as possible for passersby. Leland lingers by the doorframe, grinning from ear to ear.

“Great! It’s a date! See ya then!”

You roll your eyes with a flattered smile, wondering what you have gotten into. Becoming friends with benefits with your crush wasn’t on your 1972 bingo card.

#leland mckinney #leland mckinney x reader #tcm game #texas chainsaw massacre #smut #gender neutral reader #creepling.brainrot

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